Dawn of Infinity 2: Gatekeeper of the Luminous Key
by Zen Lon
Summary: It's been almost a year since I've updated hahaha. Been real busy and kinda lost motivation to write, but here's Chapter 13
1. PrologueDaughter of Jacetna

Dawn of Infinity II: Gatekeeper of the Luminous Key  
  
Prologue  
  
Year: 2560  
  
It's been six years since the battle of Earth, a battle that will forever be remembered by humanity. Heroes that will never be forgotten, and secrets that remain to be discovered pave the way for a new future, as the UNSC takes its next steps into the world.  
The Roain settled at New Freedom, abandoning their old planet as the secondary Covenant armada had attacked it only moments after they left. Their entire population has increased dramatically as they have rebuilt their society in a short amount of time yet a lot of work remains. Rebuilding their fleets and the UNSC fleets.  
There have been periodical Covenant attacks but none devastating, small pushes here and there to test Earth. But it was enough to know that the Covenant were still a threat and until they were defeated and the war over, there would be no true rest for the weary for humanity, as their fight for home ends, and the search for the Forerunners begins.  
  
Chapter 1  
Daughter of Jacetna  
  
Laniti stretched in the cool morning air on his new home planet of Jacetna, named after the now legendary warrior Jace formerly known as 56. She smiled to herself, proud that she was the daughter of that very same man, the man who served alongside of the Master Chief of the UNSC, the man who received the highest honors from the council of war, the man who saved humanity. She was only 15 years old, born prior to the Human-Covenant war and had matured into a young woman.  
"Laniti. Come to breakfast, I need to leave soon," her mother's voice called. She scrubbed her eyes, got dressed as she was accustomed to sleeping naked due to, what was once New Freedom's intense heat.  
"Coming mother," she called. Walking into the kitchen still groggy eyed she sat down.  
"Eat quickly. You have class today," her mother by the name of Nanya said. She grabbed the fork like eating utensil and took one bite of her Enteni, the Earth equivalent of cereal when she gave up and pushed it away, not hungry. She walked back to her room and grabbed her equipment. She was training to become a Soltari. Putting on her light cadet armor, and grabbing her sword she clipped the hilt onto her armband and walked out of the house, waving to her mother. Her people needed warriors, and she would be sure to fill their ranks.  
  
Hactana Military Academy  
  
"A Soltari's greatest weapon is what," the instructor asked. Each Soltari had been selected and bred from birth. They were taken only from the strongest telepathic gene pools, and also selected on the account of the family's prestige. Her father being 56, she was first in line. Laniti raised her hand.  
"71?" the instructor, a hard-nosed man with a weak chin simply known as Fen asked.  
"Speed, stealth, and our senses," Laniti answered.  
"Yes. Of course you all have not received your enhancements yet, but speed, stealth and your senses. Your senses being your ability to feel an enemy's emotions, to pinpoint their location and their mood and using that to your advantage," Fen answered. He pressed a small button on his wrist implant and the projector activated.  
"This is your basic combat armor. It is the S-9Aton combat suit," he explained, "it is comprised of a heat absorbent alloy called Furenium. What is the composition of Furenium and it's melting point."  
"Furenium is composed of Dialtian, Carbon, Titanium, and Soxanium, to create an alloy with a melting point of 8,000 Necums," a girl by the name of 73 answered. She was Laniti's second in command in the Seventh Soltari Unit.  
"Good. This however is designed solely against Covenant weaponry. However, the composition of the compound allows for an alloy with immense flexibility. This is essential in using this armor," Fen explained.  
"Sir," Laniti asked, raising her hand.  
"71?"  
"When will we be testing our armor," she asked.  
"Not anytime soon. You will continue using your old units. That concludes this class session. Report to the training center," he said, and with a click the hologram projector switched off. They all stood up and saluted then filed out of the room. Laniti took the rear as Fen marched them off to the training center.  
  
Zeus Station: Weapons Command Deck  
  
John hated his civilian uniform. It wasn't the same as being in his armor. It wasn't safe, strong, solid in it. He shrugged this off, as he strode toward the Weapons command deck onboard the gigantic Zeus Station, in full dress duty uniform, medals long since lost in luster adorning his chest. Saluting to random individuals who just happened to have recognized him without his suit, or read the nametag he arrived after a short walk at the door.  
"Master Chief. Admiral Yamada will see you now," the marine at the door said, saluting crisply.  
"Carry on Private," John replied. The door slid into the bulkhead to reveal the spacious bridge of the station. Men and woman could be seen walking about, tending to their duties. John walked in and was about to announce his presence when Yamada simply turned and looked at him. Rumor had it, that Yamada knew everything that went on aboard his ship.  
"You seem uncomfortable," the man simply said.  
"Admiral," John said, saluting, not forgetting his formalities that had been drilled into him since the age of six. Yamada sighed at John's desire to remain so stringent on codes so he returned the salute.  
"At ease soldier," he regarded him, looking at him peculiarly. Being since Spartan-117 was an indispensable cog in the UNSC war machine, the ISC decided to carry on with the nano-drone implants despite the risks, as did all the surviving Spartans. John looked no older than 32.  
"You called Admiral?" John asked. Yamada simply nodded and gestured for John to follow him.  
"No need with the formalities John," he said, taking note of John's slight pause at the call of his name, "yes I know your name as I was meant to know. I am one of the ones who helped draft the project."  
"Sir?" John almost staggered.  
"That however is irrelevant. I'd like you to meet an old friend. You should remember him," Yamada said, arriving at the large archway that separated the bridge into two levels, the lower deck leading to the windows. A man stood there. John recognized him immediately by the way he carried himself. He almost gasped as the man turned.  
"CPO Mendez," John saluted. 


	2. New Recruits

Chapter 2  
New Recruits  
  
"Spartan-117. At ease," Mendez said after returning the salute. He nodded for John to relax.  
"Sir. I was told you died on Reach," John said before Mendez could open his mouth. Mendez simply smiled.  
"You'll not get rid of me that easily soldier. When news came of the discovery of Reach, I was sent on the first shuttle off the planet. Though the ISC had originally been opposed to continuing the Spartan Project, they needed them to boost morale and most likely continue our war effort," Mendez explained.  
"They needed you to continue training Spartans," John said. Mendez nodded, pushing his hand through his slightly graying hair.  
"However, things didn't turn out as planned. Your group was unique, as in I've never seen such a tightly knit group in my life. I will oversee the training, however, you and your Spartans will complete the actual course. I am informed that 56 would like to help," Mendez said, glancing at Yamada. John's pulse leapt. He hadn't seen 56 in almost three years, and even though they served very little time together, he had grown quite fond of the man and his Soltaris, so much so, that he considered them a part of his family.  
"I am ready sir," John saluted.  
"I knew you would be. Suit up. You're going to need it. Cortana is waiting at the armory room along with your new upgraded J-MJOLNIR armor," Mendez ordered.  
"Yes sir," John said, and walked out of the room. Mendez turned to Yamada.  
"Well. I see he's changed," Mendez commented.  
"Yes he has. He has become quite a soldier, of that you can be proud of," Yamada said.  
"I taught him what he needed to know to survive Admiral. His skill, energy, loyalty, and mental edge is to his own credit," Mendez replied, "He's a good man. A pity the fate time has dealt him."  
  
Harrison Military Academy: Quad Area  
  
Ox picked the gun up from its resting place on the desk in front of the range. Hefting it, he familiarized himself with the handle, weight, and kick of the weapon by firing a few rounds into a target 75 meters away. Satisfied he set it back down and awaited instructions.  
"Cadets. In your weapon contains exactly 10 rounds. There are 10 targets in your range. You must hit all 10, and all members of your squad have to hit 10 or you don't get dinner tonight. One of you however has 11 rounds, and one has 9 out of your entire team. If no one makes it, no one eats," Master Sergeant Roc barked, "commence with the exercise. Ox gripped his pistol and aimed at his target.  
"Fire," Roc ordered. Ox pulled the trigger, releasing the hammer to strike the bullet. With a jolt the gun kicked back, placing a single bullet straight through the center of one his targets. He pulled the trigger in quick succession, placing six more bullets through his target. Three more to go he thought.  
"You have three minutes," Roc announced. Ox simply nodded, no longer accustomed to strain. He was trained to be calculative, a machine. He fired off what he thought was his last round. But by the gun report, he could tell he had one more.  
"You have one minute," Roc barked. If Ox knew anything, he knew Roc. He would've given him the extra bullet for a reason, and most likely the one with a lacking bullet for a reason. But who? Ox glanced quickly, scanning all the targets, but there were too many. He thought quickly. My team looks to me to lead them, someone must be lacking. Then it came to him, Ken. Ox's eyes snapped to Ken, and the look of sadness on his face.  
"You have 30 seconds," Roc barked. Ox leveled the gun at the clean target, and aimed the sights. It was a difficult shot, almost 120 yards away, with a pistol. But he gripped his gun confidently, if he missed, his team would be without food. It was his duty to hit. He pulled the trigger.  
"Put your guns down," Roc barked. He glanced at Ox, then at Ken, looking at both their targets. Ox waited, waited for the answer.  
"Spartans, report to the mess hall," Roc said, "Spartan-298, come here."  
"Sir?" Ox asked, running up.  
"May I ask, why is it you fired on Ken's target?" Roc asked, his eyes dark and emotionless.  
"Because I had an extra bullet and his target was not accounted for sir," Ox replied.  
"Did I give you permission to fire on his target," Roc demanded. Ox paused.  
"No sir," he answered.  
"They why did you without orders shoot Spartan-251's target," Roc ordered.  
"So we could complete the exercise sir. So he could get a meal tonight sir. I take full responsibility for my actions sir," Ox replied. Roc almost smiled, the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly.  
"You may report to the mess hall. But afterwards, your entire team owes me three runs through the obstacle course for your disobedience," Roc said, "do you understand?"  
"Sir, no sir," Ox said. Roc's eyebrow lifted.  
"Excuse me Spartan?" Roc asked.  
"If you're going to punish anyone for disobeying you should punish me sir. Do not punish the others for my inability to follow orders sir," Ox replied. Roc smiled inwardly. He passed the test.  
"Well Spartan-298. If you feel so strongly about it then you owe me six runs through the obstacle course after dinner. Is that understood," Roc said.  
"Sir, yes sir," Ox saluted and sprinted off.  
  
ODS Lion  
  
"Deep scans have returned inconclusive," Seth Neman spat. He looked at the charts. But nothing was there. Nothing except the same, empty, useless drivel that the machine decided to spout off every few hours appeared on the screen.  
"Well? Anything worth mentioning?" his coworker Miles Hexon asked.  
"What do you think?" Seth demanded, annoyed. The satellite scans were useless. There was just too much junk in the way. Even with the most advanced equipment that the world could provide, they couldn't find any clues.  
"What if that prophet thing was lying? Why did we trust him anyway? What a waste of tax dollars," Miles sneered.  
"We trusted him because they kept their word. But I don't know. Something's always fishy with those things," Seth replied.  
"Wait. Look at this," Miles said. Pointing at the monitor.  
"What is it?" Seth asked.  
"Could you at least say something more intelligent?" Miles laughed.  
"Shut up. What does it look like," Seth ignored him.  
"It's definitely not natural. No. It's impossible to be natural," Miles answered.  
"We'd better call it in then," Seth suggested. Miles nodded and picked up the phone.  
"Sir? Yeah, this is Lion Base. You might want to take a look at this," Miles called, he looked back at the screen, "and call the Roain too."  
  
UNSC Naval Base: Swords of Pride  
  
Wren looked at his new ship, sitting in the dock. The Roain had offered the UNSC much of their technology, however for good reasons had kept the nano-drone blueprints to themselves. Wren didn't care. In fact he had refused to go through treatment, but with some inventive persuasion from Gena, his new wife, he had agreed to go through with it. Not that he had anything to complain, he felt stronger, and younger, but it all seemed unnatural.  
"Frost. Update on ship completion?" Wren asked.  
"Ion Cannon installation along spine has been completed. Both Super MAC guns have already been installed. MAG has been installed. Now integrating supercharger coil with primary and secondary generators," his new AI replied.  
"Is that all?" Wren asked.  
"A little impatient aren't we. Yes that is all. However I will give you the information as it comes to me Admiral," Frost replied. Wren had been promoted for his exemplary command skills. As such he was awarded with a new ship, the Hanzanin, a Roain saying for, "on swift wings."  
"Keep me posted. Estimated time till completion?" Wren asked.  
"Three, maybe four days," he replied, "wait. Admiral you have a summoning. ODS Lion base. ISC says it's important."  
"Get me a shuttle then Frost. Make it quick. Watch the house while I'm away?" Wren said, smiling.  
"I'll feed the dog while I'm at it," Frost said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Wren ignored him and walked off toward the dock's mane hanger. He sighed to himself. So much changed since the Battle of Sol, yet some things never change. Humanity was far from healed, but we had come a long way and perhaps we might just survive.  
  
Harrison Military Academy: Training Center  
  
Ox was slightly winded. He'd run the exceptionally long obstacle course for his team five times. But he had no regrets. Roc had always told him, that which doesn't kill makes you tougher and faster, so you can go and beat its ass later. Wiping sweat off his forehead he was about to keep going when he noticed a transport touch down on the landing pad about 50 to 60 yards away. Curious as to know what it was, he finished his last one as fast as possible, before running over to the transport. He knew it was again violating orders, but he considered the pro and cons and considered it worth more to find out about the mystery transport.  
John exited the transport, with a dull clunk he landed on the concrete ground, almost two tons worth of soldier. The remaining Spartans, Fred, Li, Linda, Grace, Anton, Will, and Isaac followed after him. Dr. Halsey had called Kelly away for her own mission, though John hadn't asked for what. He scanned the surroundings to see a young teenager possibly 17 or 18 years old walking towards him confidently.  
"Spartan-298 sir," Ox shouted as he stood at attention in front of John. John regarded him then returned the salute.  
"Where is your commanding officer Spartan," John asked, looking at the soldier's nametag.  
"Mess hall sir," Ox replied.  
"Thank you Spartan. Carry on," John said, and walked toward the mess hall. Ox simply stood there, trying to figure out who they were exactly. He puzzled over this, beating himself up for not remembering their names. But he soon gave up, and jogged over toward the mess.  
  
John walked in to silence within the mess hall. Every single recruit was looking at him and his 8 ft armored compatriots. Glancing around, he located Master Sergeant Roc Henries.  
"Stay here," John said softly over the COM. Fred nodded as John made his way over to Sergeant Roc. Roc saluted and John regarded him with a nod.  
"Sir. I had no idea you would be arriving so soon. Has CPO Mendez arrived?" Roc asked.  
"No he hasn't. I have matters with which I have to discuss with you in private sergeant. My Spartans will oversee supervision of your recruits. Where is your office?" John asked.  
"This way sir," Roc said, and began walking off. John followed him, switching his COM to link with his Spartans, as Cortana relayed information to him.  
"Chief. Jace, and his Soltaris along with the Soltari trainees will be arriving soon," Cortana said.  
"Understood Cortana," John replied, "Spartans. Supervise the recruits until I get back."  
"Got it Chief," Fred replied. Ox sat down next to his friends. Spartans 288, Len. Spartan 341, Hera and Spartan 417, Jacob, and upon sitting down, whispered what they knew.  
"Who were they exactly?" Ox asked.  
"The Spartan IIs. The surviving ones," Len said, pausing after saying, "surviving."  
"Really? What are they doing here?" Ox asked.  
"I don't know if it's true. But they are going to be training us and incorporating us into their unit," Hera answered.  
"Should be a challenge. What's the twist?" Ox asked. From all the missions Roc had given him and his team, there was always a twist. Fred had been listening into their conversation, looking at Ox and Hera in particular, Hera shaking her head not knowing the answer.  
"You don't know?" Ox asked.  
"Why would we," Jacob snorted. Fred walked up behind the four, not making a sound, and spoke softly.  
"The twist, Spartans, is to survive." 


	3. A New Player

Chapter 3  
New Players  
  
Fleet Master Soldammee gazed out at the patrol planet known as Ispier. His fleet over the past six years had prospered, picking up many defecting Covenant forces, but something still sat unsettled on Soldammee's mind. His people's other foe must have known that the Covenant had suffered a terrible blow at that battle of Sol. Yet why did they not strike?  
"Your excellency, I have a report. The human planet Deshta is under siege by some unknown force. Could it be sir?" Guyapp asked.  
"Send word to Supreme Fleet Master Anatammee. Then I want a communication probe sent straight to Earth, with a request to meet with the Human Admiral Wren. I have grave news to tell him," Soldammee said sadly.  
"Could it be as you suspected your Excellency?" Guyapp asked, "As you feared?"  
"It is exactly as I feared Guyapp. The swarm has returned," Soldammee said.  
"What do we do?" Guyapp asked.  
"We, prepare for a very long war," Soldammee replied, "send out the signals quickly we don't have much time."  
  
Deshta: Alpha Base  
  
"Colonel! We're being overrun! There's too many of them," Lieutenant Wallace shouted. He mowed down another creature trying to flank him. He swore as his gun clicked, reporting empty. Reaching back into his clip pack strapped to his leg, he pulled out a Metal Storm clip, and jammed it into place.  
"Point taken Lieutenant. Sergeant. Order the men to fall back into the compound. Prepare us for launch Corporal Hansen," Colonel Sanders barked.  
"You heard the Colonel. Fall back men," Sergeant Henderson roared. Wallace sprayed the oncoming line of creatures, backing up as he went. His ammo counter ran wild, checking down to zero, as he finished the clip on a particularly large specimen.  
"What are these things sir?" Airman Nyan asked.  
"No idea. But we need to get off this rock. Word from our other base?" Sanders asked.  
"Navajo base has lost contact. Both coalition UNSC bases have also been destroyed. No survivors. We're the last ones," Wallace answered softly. Sanders nodded, a look of determination stamped on his face.  
"Orders Colonel?" Nyan asked.  
"We get ourselves of this god damned rock Rangers. Lieutenant can you fly that?" Sanders asked as the remainder of his team jogged into the transport.  
"You know it. There's one frigate and one cruiser in orbit now who made it off the ground. I suggest we rendezvous with them," Wallace suggested.  
"A cruiser? UNSC?" Sanders blurted, "What they send a cruiser here for."  
"Don't complain now sir. But the Radeon is our ticket home. I've already sent confirmation codes to the Captain. Incoming transmission for you sir," Wallace said, indicating the panel. Sanders walked up to the second pilot seat in the Reaver, and buckled down while everyone strapped in. Pulling the control sticks down, Wallace angled the launch platform up, and opened the launch roof. Punching up thrust controls, he jammed down the accelerators and the ship rumbled out of the launch pad.  
"Warning. Life signs detected within hanger," the AI computer warned in a cool voice. Several of the small dog beasts had made it in, accompanied by a compliment of the acid spitters. Wallace cursed. They were going to try and shoot him down, and he couldn't activate the ship's shields until they were in near vacuum. So he did the only thing he could. He pulled the left joystick all the way left, forcing the transport to do an ungainly wobble, but in the process, blasted the creatures with plasma exhaust.  
"Get us out of here Lieutenant," Sanders said.  
"The transmission sir?" Henderson reminded.  
"Patch it through," Sanders ordered. The screen flickered on and to his surprise, showed an attractive woman of about 26 years of age, with black hair, and a slender frame.  
"Colonel Sanders," she said stiffly.  
"I would like to speak to your captain," Sanders said, shocked by her beauty.  
"I 'am' the captain Colonel," she said curtly. Sanders shook his head.  
"Sorry ma'am," he said quickly.  
"When you arrive, report to the bridge. I have questions for you soldier," she ordered.  
"Yes Captain," he saluted.  
"Very good. Alki out," Alki was about to shut off the transmission, but Sanders shot a question in faster than she could hit the off switch.  
"Any idea what those things were?" Sanders asked.  
"No Colonel. But we better find out," she answered.  
  
Alki sat in her Captain's chair. Unlike Wren, who hated sitting down, she preferred to sit, as it relaxed her somewhat and she was used to sitting down anyways. After being promoted to Admiral, Wren was given the choice of who to assign his old ship, and his first choice was none other than Alki, who became the lowest rank and youngest captain of a Cruiser class vessel.  
"Captain. We're coming up on exit vector 1-0-3-3. Jacetna captain," her helmsman, Ensign Nicoli Lanno reported.  
"The package is ready for pick up ma'am," Weapons officer Dan Nartu said.  
"Good. Let down the shield walls, and turn on the air locks," she ordered.  
"Yes Captain," First officer Juo Greens said.  
"Any idea on what the package is?" Alki asked wonderingly.  
"Soltaris ma'am. They're to be integrated into the Spartan project. We have several latent transmissions coming in from several UNSC outposts, colonies, and positions in the Chariots Corner," Juo reported.  
"Bring up main monitor feeds. All of them. Display all messages at the same time," Alki ordered. The screens shimmered to show various faces with only two things in common. They were all human, and they were all scared.  
"This is Commandant Richard Tima. The UNSC base of Annon has come under attack. We are losing. We tried retreating to orbit, but a Covenant patrol fleet burned the entire planet. We managed to just escape but everyone else, including our attackers are gone," the messages then went blank.  
"Play screen two," Alki ordered.  
"Calling all friendly UNSC vessels. This is Lieutenant Colonel Luon Phates. Unknown creatures have attacked us. We could not stop them. We have fallen back and will make our stand. To anyone who reaches this. Do not go to the planet Leeikum, I repeat do not descend to the surface of Leeikum," the message died.  
"Captain?"  
"Someone has just destroyed a reported three UNSC and coalition fortress planets," Alki said softly, "not even the Covenant were able to do that, without almost losing. Something's wrong."  
"Your orders?"  
"Get me a direct link to Admiral Wren," Alki said, "now."  
  
"Colonel Sanders sir!" a burly, oak tree sized looking marine shouted, entering Sanders' temporary quarters.  
"Private?" Sanders asked.  
"Your presence on the bridge is needed now sir."  
"Lead the way," Sanders nodded, and followed the marine to the bridge. The ship was a lot larger than Sanders had first envisioned. The armor thicker, the ship faster, and the decks the familiar color of steel.  
"Colonel. Come here please," Alki said, standing in front of the main deck of the bridge. Sanders walked up to her, making sure to watch his step.  
"Yes Captain?" he asked.  
"What happened on Deshta?" Alki asked, not even looking at Sanders.  
"It was a normal patrol run, when an advance scouting team was attacked by some unknown creatures. We had the firepower, but we were outnumbered roughly 200 to one captain," Sanders replied. He sighed to himself. It wasn't even a fight. It was a massacre. 65 of his men fell on that planet, not to mention countless others at the other bases.  
"Do you have a mission log of the attack or the creatures?" Alki asked.  
"Yes ma'am," Sanders replied. He pulled the disk recording out of a slot in his leg plate and handed it to her. Looking at it, Alki picked the disc from Sanders' hand and inserted the diskette into the drive slot.  
"Juo. Bring up disc drive four on main screen," Alki ordered. Sanders didn't need to watch the screen, he remembered it all, and closed his eyes, relieving the horror.  
  
"Colonel! Watch your flank! They're trying to flank us!" Greg shouted. Sanders turned; to see a creature just in front of him, ready to rip him to shreds, when Greg spun, hosing the creature with a hail of metal. Sanders turned his head, to thank the solider, but regretted doing so. An acid spitter had crept up and impaled Greg with one of its claws.  
"Greg!" Sanders shouted. He sprayed the creature with a storm of shells, dragging his gun barrel across the enemy flank, killing three more of the little ones.  
"Sir! We need to pull back! I'm running low in ammo!" Hothen shouted, jamming another clip into place. Sanders nodded.  
"Fall back into the base," Sanders barked, then looking behind him to the chain gunners on the parapets signaled for them to close the gate.  
"Wait sir! Incoming air support!"  
"Colonel! We're being overwhelmed on the left side!"  
"We just lost armors one, four, and five."  
"Two frigates and a destroyer in orbit has been downed sir."  
"No reports coming from any coalition base."  
"Communications down!" It was a hellfire of communiqués as Sanders' battalion tried to fight to survive. Calls from the entire system told of the carnage the beasts wrought.  
"Colonel. We've lost Deshta," Wallace said.  
"Keep the fire up men. If we're going to die, let's pave the way for us," Sanders roared. Sanders sprayed his barrage of metal at oncoming waves of enemies, wave after wave. There was no limit to their numbers. Their hideousness chilling his blood, but his adrenaline and will to survive kept that trigger taught, kept his body moving. He glanced out at a pack of soldiers, making their last stand against the wall, when a mass of the beasts killed them. He couldn't look anymore. He couldn't stand it. It had to end.  
  
"End of video file," Yukina said, her holographic form shimmering into view.  
"What was that Colonel," Alki asked, shocked.  
"I don't know captain. But we're in trouble." 


	4. War Games

Chapter 4  
War Games  
  
ODS Lion  
  
"Soldammee. Care to explain yourself?" Wren asked, as Soldammee marched in with an accompaniment of marines. Wren smiled, however ugly elites looked, however much the fact that he still couldn't get used to seeing them so friendly, Wren couldn't help but smile at the creature.  
"I apologize your Excellency. I seem to have forgotten the extensive security measures I violated in blasting my way into the Earth system, but I have urgent news," he answered.  
"What is it?" Wren asked.  
"The Zerg have come," Soldammee said. Wren stood up quickly. He had heard of them, and what they could do, but never truly believed what they were. Before Earth had come in contact, they had lost an entire fleet at a mysterious planet. No one knew what happened, and the UNSC dared not send more ships, but when one of the dying ships managed to send a probe out before it died, the truth came out.  
Four forces had attacked the ship the moment they exited Slipspace. All unknown, but the moment the UNSC ships translated; all four forces ripped them to shreds without provocation. There was no contact since, and ISC feared the worst.  
"What are the Zerg?" Wren asked, worried.  
"Before your kind, before Earth went to the stars, there were five powers within the galaxy. The Protoss, the Terran, the Zerg, the Covenant, and the Roain. Each controlled a segment of the galaxy, but the Zerg became the most powerful. They destroyed the Terran, and sent the Protoss into hiding. What has kept them at bay, is even thought both my people and the Roain were waging war, we had a pact, that a compliment of our ships would patrol the Zerg homeworld, Char."  
"The bulk of our fleets were stationed on that planet, along with the secondary Roain fleet that came to your rescue. I am not sure, but it is safe to assume, that the Covenant guard over that planet has been defeated, because we alone did not have the firepower to control them, and we are more susceptible to their infection."  
"The war of all of them had been raging for nearly 100 years, when the Zerg finally assimilated the Terran. Many fled to Roain, some; those who fled to the Covenant were used in medical experiments. But the bulk of both peoples has been dispersed, the Protoss off to hide on the planet of the Dark Templar, hiding from the war save the few brave enough to fight. We are in for a very long battle Admiral," Soldammee said softly.  
"You called me Admiral," Wren smiled. Soldammee looked shocked.  
"Your Excellency?" Wren grumbled at the sound of the word, but ignored it.  
"What are they after? There is nothing on Earth," Wren asked.  
"We have never truly understood that, but it is on Earth, that I am sure of. What it is however I do not now," Soldammee, sighing the way his people did, by relaxing his shoulders, and lowering his jaw mandibles.  
"We are not yet ready for another war. Let alone with an enemy that nearly bested both your people and the Roain," Wren said resignedly. The UNSC and Allied fleets were still broken, and couldn't take much more than they already had. Even when equipped and rearmed with new technologies, Earth's Armada and armed forces were nowhere near combat capable.  
"I understand your Excellency. However the situation has already become dramatically more escalated. We have done studies on these Zerg, but they have returned inconclusive. Even though we are capable in killing them, they reproduce and spawn so quickly, our forces can barely reposition. I believe they have already captured one of our colony bastion worlds," Soldammee said.  
"Deshta?" Wren blurted. Deshta was known to be rich in titanium, trinium, and other ore deposits vital to making the new UNSC ship armor. They had tried to colonize it, to help rebuild their fleets and act as a ship staging area.  
"Yes your Excellency. With your permission, I wish to take a compliment of our ships along with a small patrol group of your vessels to investigate. And if necessary, glass the planet," Soldammee said. Wren pondered this for a second. They couldn't lose such a valuable mining planet as the reserves on both Earth and the Eos had been depleted.  
"I will accompany you along with my personal fleet escorts. However, we do not glass the planet, unless it is absolutely necessary understood?" Wren asked.  
"Yes your Excellency," Soldammee bowed, Wren rolled his eyes.  
"And stop calling me that," Wren said under his breath.  
  
The Hanzanin left shuddered, as the overhead clamps holding the ship in place released it, letting it float lightly in the orbital cradle. His ship, the Hanzanin was part of a new class of vessel deemed, the Hunter Cruiser. A fast, light, and heavily armed ship, its only weakness was it's slightly decreased armor bulk, and very small crew, but it was designed for one purpose. To destroy enemy ships without them knowing what hit them. With only half the amount of armor plating as the Radeon, the Hanzanin had twice the firepower.  
Equipped with two full fledged generators, and two super charger coils, one for the MAG and the MAC, and the other for both Ion cannon emplacements along the ship's flanks. She carried a payload, of 240 Heavy Archers, and a single low yield plasma turret. The UNSC had opted not to add on an EMP cannon, as to not strain the generators.  
"Admiral. All systems are running green," Hanzanin's first officer Eric Damions reported.  
"Good let's get this puppy underway," Wren barked upon entering the bridge. He glanced at his command file, looking at his command crew list:  
First Officer: Captain Eric Damions Weapons Officer: Lieutenant Samantha Caris.  
Communications Officer: Lieutenant Daniel Simms.  
Helmsman: Ensign Jesse Syne. Tactical Officer: Major John Dalton. Marine CO: Colonel Jack O'Neil. Onboard AI: Dragoon  
  
"Aye, aye Admiral," Eric Damions reported, "Ensign, 35% thrust. Take her out nice and slow."  
"35%, all forward," Jesse said, easing the control slowly, as she adjusted the thrust power. Wren was forced to sit down, as he was unprepared for the speed, and power of the ship, used to the slow rumble of a start the engines of his previous vessel gave. The cradle docking doors opened, and the Hanzanin shot out of her home for the past eight months.  
"We are running at 35%, all systems still nominal Admiral. Fleet Master Soldammee has acknowledged our departure and is ready to link up with us," John said.  
"Very good Major. Let's get going. Plot a course to the rendezvous point. Make sure shields, and weapons are running at full power," Wren ordered.  
"Aye Admiral," the bridge shouted in unison.  
"Everyone here knows what 'Hanzanin' means rite?" Wren asked.  
"On swift wings," the bridge replied.  
"Then let's live up to that name. Ensign, full speed ahead," Wren barked.  
  
Harrison Training Facility: Recovery Room  
  
Ox's entire body felt as though it had been on fire, but the pain was gone, and all that was left were the sores. He stood up from his cot, and glanced around his room. His eyes sharply attuned, his hearing, pristine, and his reflexes and speed bolstered. But somehow, everything felt out of sync. He shook this off, probably after effects of the treatment.  
Exiting his room, he walked his way over the recreation area, in which he was to meet with the rest of his group. Arriving shortly, he entered the room to see his fellow Spartans all conversing with one another, or just relaxing, most of them looking as though they too were recovering. But something bothered Ox. There were several Spartans missing from his team. He puzzled over this and walked up to one of the guards watching the interior door and regarded him.  
"Excuse me sir. Where is the rest of my team?" he asked. The guard ignored him for a second, trying to look impassive.  
"Where is the rest of my team?" Ox persisted. No response.  
"Where is the rest of my team," Ox demanded, "sir."  
"They did not make it through the operation," the man said softly, "I'm sorry."  
"What do you mean you're sorry," Ox said, the anger wasn't on his face, but he could feel it beneath the skin, the muscle, burning right to his bone. This man had no right to say those words. He wasn't raised, trained from birth with these people. He wasn't a part of their family. Just then, the Master Chief walked in as if on cue.  
"Spartans. Follow me," he said, Ox somewhat taken aback by the unarmored soldier. He looked back at the guard, and followed John into the main lecturing hall, leaving the guard to ponder at his last words. Walking inside, Ox sat down in one of the seats, but they somehow were empty. Rick, Tay, David, Solta, and Cynis not there to fill them.  
"Spartan-298, please report to the front of the hall please," John said. Ox stood up, his uniform crinkling as he stood and walked over to the podium. John nodded as he came to stop.  
"Spartan-298, in light of your exemplary service, and the relief of command from your superior Sergeant Roc, I am promoting you to the rank, of Master Sergeant," John said, pulling a pin from the case on the podium and pinning it onto Ox's uniform. Saluting, John snapped his arm back down.  
"From this point on, you take your orders and place your trust, in your commanding officer. Spartans, dismissed," John said, the remainder of the Spartans, stood up and left, while Ox stood behind, looking at John.  
"What is it?" John asked.  
"What happened to the rest of my team sir," Ox asked.  
"They didn't make it through the surgery," John replied, remembering the shattered image of his old friends, Fhajad, Lily, and the others who trained their entire lives, only to be unable to fight. John looked back at Ox.  
"What's going to happen to them," Ox asked.  
"They will be put into think tank. Plan strategy," John said, saying the exact things said to him, when he found out what happened to them.  
"All they wish is to fight sir," Ox said, "I hope they are given the chance."  
  
"Blue Team. Move out," John said over the COM of his combat suit. His squad sprinted into the cover. The recruits were on a search and destroy mission. John and his team were the targets. Equipped with the new J-MJOLNIR model armor suits, both John's team, and Ox's team were using live ammunition, but stopped once an enemy's shields were depleted.  
"Linda, you got the peak located here. Watch our backs. Fred, Will, Isaac, take the pass. Grace, Anton, Li, you cover the transport," John ordered.  
"You sir?"  
"I'm going hunting," John replied.  
  
"Len, Hera, Faux, Henry, Kas, Nell, Tom, Joseph, you're with me. Jacob. I want you to take the rest of the team," Ox said.  
"Your plan sir?" Jacob asked.  
"Look. The Spartans are smart, and they have experience on their side. I don't want to go into this blind. Jacob, you and your team will stay behind until we give the all-clear signal. We're the scout part," Ox said.  
"Yes sir," Jacob replied.  
"Watch your back Jake," Ox said, smiling under his helmet, tapping his faceplate twice to signify the gesture.  
"I watch yours you watch mine?" Jacob asked, replying as customary.  
"You have a deal," Ox answered, and signaled silence.  
The Master Sergeant signaled to his party, and they scooted off into the brush, splitting into teams of two. Scanning the area surrounding him, he held his fist, as he neared the pass. Something felt wrong about the pass, as though there was a trap, and he called his team back to the secondary rendezvous.  
"Sarge. Something isn't right," Len said, crouching and leaning his weight forward on his C-233 Battle Rifle.  
"I know. That pass is unguarded. I smell an ambush. Any suggestions?" Ox asked.  
"There's probably a blind spot, or a look out on the top peak," Hera said. She tapped the interface panel on her helmet and a map of the area floated in front of the group. Ox indicated the mountain face.  
"We've been through this area on training missions many times before. They probably have a lookout stationed at this peak. Plus guards here and here at the pass exit hiding behind these outcroppings. The only way to take them out, is to knock off the lookout, and take out the guards from the vantage point," Ox explained.  
"What if they expect it?" Kas asked.  
"We have to move fast then. The only chance is the element of surprise. They can't know that we have this terrain memorized. We use that to our advantage. We use the lay of the land to outmaneuver them. Kas, you and Faux are our best snipers and lookouts. Tom, Nell, Joseph, you three are to scout the pass. Any movement you get out of there. Hera, you and I will scout the surrounding area for other ways to get through. Move out team," Ox barked.  
  
"They know the terrain better than us," John said over the COM, "expect surprises. Linda, they'll probably go for you first. I want you on your guard. Remember. We're using live ammunition, Linda just make sure they know when they're down."  
"Understood Chief," Linda replied.  
"I've found they're secondary group. One click from your position Fred, once they've spotted you, their second force will move in. Be ready," John said.  
  
Moving around the side, Ox nodded the all clear and moved the bushes aside, revealing a second way in. It was a small cave that connected to a small opening within the pass by tunnel just large enough to fit two Spartans crawling inside. Crawling slowly on their bellies, Ox and Hera made it out the other end. Ox was right; two Spartans were stationed at the pass.  
  
"We got company," Fred said softly over the COM.  
"I already saw them. Should we take them out?" Isaac asked.  
"Not yet. We play it safe first. They don't know we've spotted them. We lure them in then take them out, that way they can't report back," Fred said. He thumbed the safety off his gun, and steadied his hand, waiting for the move.  
  
"I don't think they've spotted us," Ox said, "Hera, circle that way. We'll take them off guard. If we can take out the lead guards before the sniper spots us. We might be able to take the pass."  
"Got it," Hera replied. Ox nodded, signaling by moving his fingers across the side of his helm. Hera was about to move, when two cracks of gunfire rang through the air. One zipping past Ox's head, striking the rock behind him and forcing Ox to roll away, while the other shot pinged off Hera's shields. A voice crackled over the COM.  
"You are down Spartans. Set your gun safeties on, and get on the ground," Linda called over.  
  
"This isn't like Ox. It's taking too long. Rafe, pick six and take them with you. You're Red team. Everyone else follow me," Jacob barked. Jacob broke cover, and stopped dead, a single Spartan stood from the brush, a rifle leveled on his chest.  
"Stand down Spartan. You're surrounded," John said. Sure enough, seven Spartans stood up from the brush, six battle rifles, and one sniper rifle leveled on the group.  
"Yes sir," Jacob said, and set down his weapon, lifting his hands up.  
"Spartans, report to the NAV point. There you will find a transport to take you back to base," John barked.  
"Sir yes sir," they all shouted in unison.  
"Sir. Where is the rest of the team," Jacob asked. As if on cue, Hera, Faux, Len, Kas, Nell, Tom, Joseph, Henry, and Ox walked from behind trees, their weapons tucked into the holster on their backs.  
"Thank you sir," Jacob answered and sprinted off. Ox's team followed suit but Ox stayed behind. He was shaken. He'd never lost before, and this sudden defeat, even though defeated by his predecessors and Spartans with far greater experience, still rattled him. John nodded to his group and they ran off toward the transport as well, while Ox stood there.  
"Master Chief sir?" Ox asked.  
"What is it Master Sergeant," John acknowledged.  
"How did we lose sir? The plan was perfectly executed. Take out the guards, move in the rest of the force, and catch you outnumbered and outmaneuvered," Ox explained.  
"You were missing two things. First, is you can never expect to have the advantage in numbers. Always assume you do not have numbers, that way, you plan smarter, safer, more carefully. If this had been real, seven of your Spartans would be dead," John answered.  
"What's the second thing sir?" Ox asked.  
"Trust," John said simply.  
"Trust sir?" Ox asked.  
"Without trust soldier, a Spartan is nothing." 


	5. Legacy of the Forerunners

Chapter 5  
Legacy of the Forerunners  
  
20,000 Years Ago  
  
The Forerunner city, of Altalansin slowly emptied. They had fought and lost their war, and now, they had to flee, their secrets and technology taken with them as to make sure their foe didn't take it to use it against them. Ganata sighed, as he looked at his ship, the flag vessel Oltara, named after his home planet. All their experiments had failed; they managed only to contain the flood, while the other power in the universe threatened to force them into extinction.  
"Commander," Holta said, her eyes glittering, tears that didn't want to fall edging off her face. She sighed heavily as well, her narrow shoulders falling. Ganata stood up, and walked up to her, his swept back legs moving him along with a determined trundle. He placed his head against hers and entered her mind.  
Do not be afraid my child. We will survive, he said, filling her mind with thoughts and images of hope.  
How can you be sure? So much pain and suffering follows us, she said.  
We can never be sure little one. But we will leave our legacy and our Chosen shall rise up and continue the work we failed to finish, and one day bring peace to the warring races, he "smiled."  
"Commander Ganata, your ship has been fueled, and prepared. We are ready to leave for Earth," the communications console on Ganata's desk chimed. Ganata broke his mental connection and walked over to the flashing holographic panel, tapping the main screen twice, the face of Tunati hove into view.  
"Thank you Tunati. Inform the fleet they are to leave first. I will follow them. Be safe from harm, and may the Reclaimer watch over us all," Ganata said. Tunati nodded and bowed, the screen flickering off.  
"Why hasn't the Reclaimer come to save us this time," Holta asked.  
"He has more important things in which he must attend to. As I said, do not be afraid, we will survive," Ganata said, not adding what was on the tip of his mind. I hope.  
  
Two Years later  
  
The Oltara lurched out of Slipspace, sparks flashing all along her scorched hull. Her armor down to mere inches, and her engines barely keeping her moving, she was a wreck, but yet somehow found the determination to hold herself together. Ganata stood in front of the main console in the command room of his vessel, looking down on the beautiful gem in the darkness of space. Earth.  
"Commander! We have arrived safely! The enemy flagship however is right behind us, and will soon exit Slipspace. We must flee sir," Hulroanin reported.  
"We cannot. We must stop this running. Bring us about Hulroanin. Prepare the emergency Slipspace distortion wave, and ready to drop the Luminous Key," Ganata ordered.  
"The Luminous Key has been isolated within the engineering section of the ship and is ready to be detached," Kelnoren said.  
"When their flagship translates, move us in as close as you can, and send us both into Slipspace limbo," Ganata said.  
"Commander. Reports from all over our system. Our ships are being caught in Slipspace and dragged out. The bulk of our escape fleet has been destroyed. No one has made it to the city. This is the end commander," Elterne said, hushed.  
"So it ends here," Ganata said.  
"Commander. The Luminous Key has been launched," Hulroanin shouted, "the enemy flagship has just arrived."  
"Move us forward Asadanaf," Ganata ordered.  
"It has been an honor commander," Kelnoren said softly.  
"Yes it has. We will die. But our foes will not get the Luminous Key. Elterne. Drop the Gatekeeper," Ganata ordered.  
"Gatekeeper is away."  
"We go peacefully to our deaths, and let the sun of this planet always shine."  
  
Present Day  
  
Dr. Catherine Halsey eased her way into the narrow hallway, Kelly right behind her. Looking at the panels she tried deciphering them. But to no avail. Since humanity's contact with the ring worlds, linguists have only been able to determine that the Forerunner's language was closely related in structure and pronunciation to Aztec. However the characters themselves resembled Chinese, while the written form was based on Latin. Basic translation programs had been drafted, but none were accurate enough.  
Moving along the gradually widening passage, Dr. Halsey gasped as she arrived in an atrium like structure. It was vast; large enough to fit a fair sized Predator Class Cruiser. Pulling out a pocket-sized scanner, she pulled out the sensors array from the back and plugged it in, taking readings on the room.  
"This cave is no natural formation," Halsey breathed, "it seems to have been built as some sort of housing chamber."  
"Dr. Halsey, look at this," Kelly said from her position against the wall. Dr. Halsey made her way over and gasped, looking at the scrawls and images on the wall. It was the image of what looked like a giant ship, shaped like a giant bird. Grasped in its talons was a small key, with exploding rays of light emanating from it.  
"Amazing," Halsey said, "this text, its Latin."  
"What about here?" Kelly asked.  
"That's Chinese. Aztec, English, Sanskrit, Japanese, Hebrew, Russian, French. The languages of the great nations of the world are all here," Dr. Halsey marveled. She glanced at the data readouts, traces of energy signatures, ion trails. Whatever was in here must have been huge, and powerful enough to leave ion trails after so many years. From the energy decay levels at the estimated time it was locked in here, there must have been some other source of power. Something else had to be in here; no way something could leave a trace for this long.  
"Kelly. Check your suit's integrated energy sensors. Do you see anything? I have many strange readings but I can't make them out with this small handheld," Dr. Halsey said. Kelly paused for a moment, tapping the control switch on her helmet, and toggling the scan command.  
"Dr. Halsey. I have a large source marker. It's about 1300 meters from here," Kelly said, walking off. Dr. Halsey nodded and followed her. They reached the other side of the large chamber, and located a door like construction. Falling to one knee, Dr. Halsey examined it.  
"What's it say," Kelly asked.  
"My Latin is a little rusty. But it says, 'With so the keep arise, should the Luminous Key be disturbed. Awaken the beast resides, inside that which has been unearthed. Let light shine, and the path shall light as the sword be reborn.' Doesn't make sense at all," Dr. Halsey sighed.  
"Could it be a riddle?" Kelly asked.  
"No. I think it's a warning or a clue. But we can't be sure," Dr. Halsey replied. But it had to mean something. She cursed. She didn't even know what exactly she was looking for. But there had to be something. Something in the texts, and she was determined to find out what they meant.  
  
Deshta: High Orbit  
  
Wren looked at Deshta, once the pride jewel of the UNSC. They had determined it to be rich in natural minerals, capable of fueling two entire race's war machines for the better part of four decades. Now. It was under Zerg control. Damn it. Wren thought. Damn these bugs.  
"Admiral. Preliminary scout drones have returned. Our token forces have just landed on the planet's surface," Damions reported.  
"Dragoon. Download the Scout drone data, then I wanted them launched again to maintain strict perimeter. If anything so much as moves I want to know about it, and Damions, get our men off the surface," Wren ordered.  
"Sir?"  
"I said, get our men off the surface now," Wren snapped.  
"I don't understand," Damions persisted. You couldn't trust intel just from pictures taken off a spy drone.  
"You don't have to. I want. Our soldiers. Off the surface. Now captain," Wren said, staring him down. Damions gulped visibly. He had heard rumors of Wren's command tactics and character. The man valued life above all things, but it was a simple recon, why would he call them back. But Eric didn't have time to argue about this. Orders no matter where they were from were orders.  
"Corporal!" Damions shouted. Corporal Vez Nashonis ran up, saluting.  
"Sir," Vez shouted, a heavy Italian accent present.  
"There's a Pelican, Hanger four, it's fueled and ready. Pick up our men. Their coordinates will be broadcasted once you breach atmosphere.  
"Understood Captain," Vez saluted and ran off. Damions looked down at the main console, not really looking at it, just diverting his eyes from Wren's icy gaze. But he had to ask.  
"Sir. It's only a scouting mission. What possible threat could there be by keeping them there?" Damions asked. Wren didn't answer, and just looked down upon Deshta.  
"Human life is too valuable Captain. I've learned that all too well. I've sent men and woman under my command to their deaths. The Covenant almost wiped us out. Each life on Earth must be cherished, protected," Wren replied.  
"Sir. It's only a recon mission," Damions said again.  
"Three bases. Two UNSC, one USA coalition base fell to those creatures. United States Servicemen, armed with Metal Storm cannons, each base with nearly 600 personnel. An even match for an entire Covenant hunter fleet and all their soldiers fell to these creatures. I'm not taking any chances Captain," Wren answered.  
  
Deshta: Remains of Alpha Base  
  
"El-tee. There's nothing left sir," Sergeant Walters shouted from the tower. She looked out at the barren wasteland. It was odd. Only blood but no bodies, the same was inside the base.  
"What you got Wilkins. Anything?" Lieutenant Yulton asked, tapping the COM control on his plasma armor vest.  
"Nothing sir. Same as Walters. Only blood. No corpses," Wilkins replied. His finger strayed to his trigger. What could have done this?  
"Wait. I have a positive contact on an inbound Pelican sir. EVAC sir," Chang said. Yulton nodded, moving his two fingers in the air in the motion of a helicopter's blades, the signal to move out. Yulton climbed the ramp to the parapets, looking out at the surrounding desert landscape bordering the base. So peaceful, yet gored and stank of death.  
"El-tee!! Multiple inbound contacts are coming this way. I have ground and air targets. Unidentified. I don't know how many. They're clustered together. Moving fast. Unearthly fast sir," Corporal Trezo shouted. Shit. Damn it. So intel was right. Yulton signaled his COM, he had to contact Wren.  
"Closing fast sir. 15 minutes away," Walters shouted.  
"Where's the EVAC," Yulton shouted, desperately trying to get a link with Wren. But no avail. All the got was static. Something was disrupting communications.  
"Saddle up boys! Let's give those bastards a warm welcome!" Yulton shouted. Yulton cursed. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was just a simple reconnaissance mission. There wasn't supposed to be hostiles. He looked around the base looking for something to use, and found them. Four mounted. Metal Storm cannons facing the pass.  
"Walters, Wilkins, Trezo, get up on those mounted cannons. Chang, communications, I need to know where the EVAC is and when it will arrive," Yulton barked. Within minutes the four cannons were manned and facing the valley pass. If they could use the bottleneck, they could hold them off just long enough to get the hell out of there.  
"Sir. Hostile contacts eight minutes away," Walters shouted from her position.  
"Eight? What the hell happened to 15," Yulton demanded.  
"They doubled their pace," she replied simply. Yulton shook his head, nodding to Chang; he ran up the ramp t the walls and took his position in one of the guns. Climbing into the control cockpit he pulled the door down, and dialed up the firing controls. Two joysticks, simple enough.  
"Here they are sir. They're cresting the ridge and will be within visual range. Gun targeting says they'll be within firing range in two minutes," Trezo warned. Yulton gripped the control tightly, his fingers tensed on the trigger. Then, the broke the ridge.  
"Open fire!" Yulton shouted. They were disgusting brutes. Spines lining their backs, they crawled, ran, and slithered, all the while screaming, shrieking, and yelling their war cries. The Metal Storm was the same as the normal assault rifles; only, it had four barrels, and larger caliber shells, four of them, meant slaughter. But the Zerg came in the hundreds of thousands, and it took several shells to take one down.  
"Watch your left Wilkins. We don't want to be flanked," Yulton shouted.  
"Air targets!" Trezo shouted.  
"Wilkins, Walters, take them. We have our hands full," Yulton ordered.  
"Sir. There's too many of them," Walters said heavily. The targeting computer and his motion trackers were going haywire. Hundreds of thousands upon hundreds of thousands charged relentlessly against the once lost base.  
"Where is that EVAC!" Yulton yelled.  
"Nothing on it sir. Communications are being disrupted somehow. I don't understand sir but I'm working on it."  
"We shall hold here then," Yulton whispered softly, waiting for the automatic reloading systems to reload the cannons. He checked his ammo counters. Only 4 million left. The chambers clicked into place. But no matter how many bullets he had. They would not defeat this foe.  
"Sir?" Walters asked over the COM.  
"We shall make this our last stand. May God help us," Yulton said.  
  
UNSC Hanzanin: Bridge  
  
"Sir. Corporal Vez's Pelican has been shot down sir. The men on the surface are stranded," Damions said. Now, he was regretting his decision.  
"Get me an open COM line with the commander on the surface now," Wren yelled.  
"We can't. Communications are down," Simms reported. Oh no, Wren thought. He couldn't send more men to the surface. They were lost.  
"Admiral. What do we do?" Damions asked.  
"Bring the ship about. Prepare us to enter the atmosphere. Send a message to Fleet Master Soldammee for them to hold orbit," Wren ordered. With the Hanzanin, perhaps they might have a chance.  
"Prepare the fighting crews. Get the marines mobilized and this ship on full alert. We're landing on that base," Wren ordered. We're landing there, and we're going to wipe them out, he thought.  
  
Somewhere in the Sahara Desert  
  
Antu Anul straightened up on his camel. His back ached from riding it so long. Reaching into his pack, he grabbed the canteen strapped to his camel. Tipping it up he took a long draught and sat, satisfying his thirst. He smiled to himself. It was nice out here despite the heat. Suddenly, the ground shook.  
"What the," Antu shouted in shock, falling off his steed. The ground parted; sand filling the seam like water to a crack, and from this fissure in the ground, a giant beast rose.  
"Apollo!" he said softly. The eye on the creature turned, looking down on Antu Anul. Then, it spoke.  
"The Gatekeeper has awoken. The Gatekeeper is aware. The Gatekeeper, will protect. The Luminous Key." 


	6. Kings and Queens

Chapter 6

Kings and Queens

Kerrigan stretched her claws, arching her back as she yawned. She cursed this fact, that she was still, slightly, however slightly, human. Duran hid in the corner, not wanting to anger her with the bad news he was about to bring. But it was his duty, to serve his queen.

"What is it," Kerrigan said, she already knew he was there, and regained her composure despite her slight fatigue.

"I bring grave news my Queen," Duran began.

"Yes?" Kerrigan was growing impatient.

"The Earthlings have already landed forces on Deshta. The Cerebrate stationed on the planet however, taking note of their arrival managed to block their communications, and sent his warriors to the retaken base. However," Duran started.

"However what," she demanded, but she already knew what.

"The entire force of his group was slaughtered. 150,000 estimated casualties," Duran replied.

"How many on their side," Kerrigan asked.

"None," Duran replied.

"Muster up the forces. We will attack them once we are all assembled. Get as many minions as we can from neighboring worlds. We must crush them before they assemble their fleets and scorch the planet," Kerrigan said.

"Yes my Queen."

"Get me a Overlord. I will oversee this. Personally," she growled.

**

* * *

**

**Deshta: Alpha Base: Camp Endurance**

"Sir. Base perimeter defenses have been set up. We've managed to also reload the Metal Storm turrets located on the ramparts. Coupled with our ship's MAG cannons and also a rampart shade cannon. The base has been brought back to speed," Damions reported.

"Make sure we stay that way. I want two Broadsword wings flying patrols at all times. Make sure all transports are ready to deploy and the men are ready to fight Captain," Wren ordered. He looked around him as soldiers sprinted around the complex to make sure that the base was ready as it could be.

"Admiral. You might want to take a look at this," a marine shouted from his position. Wren walked up the ramp and gazed out at the battlefield. It was strewn with Zerg carcasses and the smell was indescribable.

"Bring in a few for examination. I want to know their weaknesses, what they are, and who's controlling them," Wren ordered, "and get a guard around the medical room at all times."

"Sir? They're dead," Eric pointed out.

"When you've been in this war as long as I have. You can tell me whether or not to take chances," Wren said, winking at Damions, then walked off, leaving Eric to his thoughts. This war would not be fought man to man, Eric thought to himself, how would one loss make any difference?

"Look here. The brain. It's smaller than what I expected. There seems to be two halves, but only motor functions," Dr. Simmons said, prodding the brain with an electric probe. Attacking several wires to certain points on the football sized brain, Simmons ran through the computer simulation system. Just then, Wren walked through the door into the room.

"Admiral. You should have a clean suit," Simmons protested. Wren just glared at him, silencing the man.

"What did you find Simmons," Wren asked.

"These beasts are not sentient for one. But they seemed to be controlled. Look, all I can see are motor functions, and basic animalistic senses. From the one Roain flood sample, these creatures seem to be similar," Simmons replied. Wren visible winced at the mention of the word "flood."

"In what way Doctor. Make it short and simple," Wren asked.

"They hunger."

"For what?" Wren said, but he already knew what.

"What do you think," Simmons answered grimly.

Wren mused over his opponent's move. It made no sense, such a random strategy. It seemed his enemy was moving his pieces, just as randomly as possible, knowing Wren, and ordered tactician would be unable to counter naturally. Of course Wren was bemused, but not incompetent.

"Rook to Bishop two," Wren said satisfied. The holographic projector showed the rook, a castle like piece moving towards the bishop, trampling it over. Dragoon on his holographic pedestal simply smiled.

"Interesting move Wren. What remarkable strategy," Dragoon commented.

"Shut and play," Wren growled mockingly.

"Queen, to rook 1," Dragoon replied. Damn, Wren swore, didn't see that coming.

"Bah. My rook," Wren mumbled.

"You aren't trying. I feel insulted," Dragoon chuckled.

"You're just moving at random," Wren pointed out.

"An applicable strategy no?" Dragoon said.

"It is. But I can't understand this new enemy Dragoon. The Zerg? They defy natural strategic planning. Why send so many soldiers to take out a fallen base guarded by four marines? Then now that we've landed, why not attack now?" Wren mused.

"Perhaps there is a point. You seem thoroughly stumped by my moves. Perhaps you are to strict with your academy implanted strategies," Dragoon said, tapping his holographic "forehead."

"Maybe so. This could be a problem. Knight to pawn four," Wren said.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Dragoon said, shaking his finger, "Queen to Bishop 1."

"Check mate?" Wren asked softly.

"Check mate."

* * *

Kerrigan relished in the sunlight, her skin absorbing the rays of light emanating from the Deshtan Sun. Her claws flexed in the air, and she sighed to herself. Her mind was strained, overly strained. She couldn't understand why. The amount of forces on this planet under her control had been cut two-thirds. Yet it took more and more control to maintain them. There must be another presence on this planet but what was it.

"My Queen. Our reinforcements have touched down on the surface," Duran reported. Kerrigan ignored him for a second, trying to get her minions under control. Finally after extensive concentration she managed it, but it was only a shaky control.

"Very good," Kerrigan answered.

"Is there something wrong my Queen?" Duran asked.

"No," she lied. But this problem was troubling. Had the Over mind risen again? This made no sense, the Terran were defeated, the Covenant fleet in a shambles since their attack on Sol, and the Roan where too busy trying to repair their fleets as to combat the Covenant. Something was odd about this planet. Something that shouldn't be here.

"Our first attack wave is ready to strike. Be warned however that our planet side Cerebrate has detected the presence of human forces located at the base we attacked earlier. I fear we might need to send all our forces in order to defeat them. Scout troops have also identified a large war ship above the base," Duran reported.

"Lurkers. Send our burrowing units. We attack from below, with a diversion force from above while our main forces hit their flanks. With any luck we should be able to overwhelm them. How many warriors do we have on estimate?" Kerrigan asked.

"Excuse me my Queen? You don't have full control over your minions?" Duran asked. Damn, Kerrigan thought, I slipped.

"No I do. But the control over them has become slightly limited. They have become, more and more rampant," she answered.

"12 million of your warriors are stationed on this planet," Duran replied.

"We will ht them with everything," Kerrigan said.

"What?" Duran blurted.

"We will annihilate them. No survivors," Kerrigan snarled.

"I understand my Queen," Duran replied.

"Be sure you do Duran. If you fail. You will be leading the next charge," Kerrigan hissed. Duran gulped visibly.

"Yes my Queen. I will not fail you."

"See that you don't." Kerrigan turned from gazing on the pass that separated her forces from that of Earth's, she felt a nudge against her mind, and turned around swiftly, scanning the ridge. Ignoring it, she made herself believe it was nothing but a trick, and entered her hive to prepare for the battle ahead.

* * *

Zeratual missed nothing from his perch on the peak of the mountain. So he had been tricked even more thoroughly than he was led to believe. Kerrigan had grown in power, and his attempts to limit the detection of his presence have proven to be more and more futile. One slip and he would have the Swarm unleashed on him. Wrapping his cloak around his thin arms, he made his way down the mountain, thinking to himself. These past centuries have not been kind to him.

"Artanis. You can stop hiding now," Zeratual chuckled, remembering spotting the young Templar.

"I apologize Zeratual. I did not mean to eavesdrop on either conversation."

"Do not worry yourselves over such minute details young one. But I am curious as to why you have come all the way to this backward planet?" Zeratual asked. But he already knew the answer.

"The matriarch wanted to know exactly why you left our homeworld so quickly and in such a rush. It seems the pieces have begun moving in the exact way you've predicted.

"No. These moves are uncharacteristic. I have never seen or felt Kerrigan as troubled as she is now. It worries me. We must somehow warn the human base I spotted behind the ridge," Zeratual suggested.

"Will they accept us," Artanis asked.

"I'm sure one of them will."

"This is a most interesting and dangerous situation. It reminds me of a game the Terran Jim Raynor tried to teach me," Artanis reminisced, his eyes smiling at the memory of the human.

"Oh? How so," Zeratual asked, smiling as well.

"Chess. It seems the Queen of Blades has made her move."

"Yes she has. We must ready our defense."

* * *

AN: I finally fixed it. Hopefully. Well here's this chapter again. Chapter 7 on its way.


	7. This is Jimmy

**Chapter 7: This is Jimmy**

* * *

**Jacetna: UNSC Radeon: Low Orbit**

"Captain. We've received a communiqué. The Roain defense force has sent its reinforcements. We're to pick up the Soltaris, whereas the remainder of the aid battalion has departed along with Talm to Earth," Nicoli reported.

"Captain Alki. A word please," Jace said. Alki walked over to Jace's perch on the main COM console. Jace indicated the screen.

"To all outlying Soltari troopers within COM distance. This is War Councilor Zephyr. Report to Earth immediately and join the Spartans on Earth. Orders will be relayed once you have all arrived," the transmission ended.

"Meaning?" Alki asked.

"Take me to Earth."

Jace fidgeted aboard his transport. He never got use to the fact that the Roain transport was so cramped inside. It was like being locked in an Earth Coffin, complete darkness, walls on all sides, no escape. He sighed to himself. Accessing his spinal node, and running through the preprogrammed commands, he cycled the command that blocked emotions. Nano-drones implanted in his brain blocked the transmission of emotion from his emotive centers to the motor functions of his body. The emotion of fear popped and vanished.

"War Master. We are arriving at the UNSC training facility Harrison," his pilot, one of the new members added to squad, 54 said. Jace sighed, remembering having deleted his old comrade's file. He regretted it, having never thought about it until Wren had brought it up. But Jace had so much respect for the man that his entire moral standing had shifted. Every life was valuable. Waste nothing.

"Very well 54. Bring us in slow, and alert the control tower of our presence," Jace ordered. He grinned, Master Chief, working as usual. The ship pulled down, hovering over the landing pad softly, before touching down on to the ground with a soft creaks from the metal landers compensating for the weight distribution. Stepping outside with a sense of relief, Jace squinted in the sun, his helmet resting in the crook of his arm pressed against his burnished chest plate.

"War Master Jace," a man saluted him, walking up. Not accustomed to saluting, Jace laughed at the memory of Wren having made fun of him doing so, so he simply bowed.

"Where is the Master Chief?"

"He's on his way back from a training operation," the man answered, gazing into the sky, he squinted an grinned, "there he is."

Jace followed the man's gaze, his keen vision spotted the ugly looking UNSC standard transport, the Pelican, rumble over. Landing right beside his sleek vessel just as the rest of Soltari Squad 5 exited, the Master Chief jumped out from the back of the Pelican's loading bay. The man Jace had spoken to jogged up to the armored giant and spoke wit him, John, simply nodded and headed in Jace's direction.

"Master Chief," Jace said stiffly, bowing. John unlocked the seal on his helmet and removed it, smiling beneath his metal mask.

"Jace," John said, his face smiling as much as it could. He extended his gauntlet and shook Jace's hand, "it's been too long."

"It seems you are doing well," Jace commented, looking at the recruits.

"You too," John replied. There was an awkward silence, both soldiers since birth not accustomed to conversation.

"Well. I have come with our new recruits. My father deems it best we integrate our two units. We have a new war on our hands," Jace said grimly.

"A new war?" John asked, thinking, what happened to the last one?

"The last one is over for now. We have a more terrible threat. We must begin mobilizing defenses on this planet immediately," Jace's face stamped with urgency, "I'll explain on the way."

"Spartan-298, take your squad to the mess hall. Shower up and meet at 1900 in the mess. My team, follow me," John ordered, "Jace, explain."

"We have a high priority alert. Several outlying outposts, both ours and yours have fallen to the Zerg," Jace said.

"Zerg?" John asked.

"Long story short. Flood who can think," John winced at the thought.

"Orders?"

"Full integration of both Soltaris and Spartans. After, we are to report to Admiral Wren, to reinforce his position on your outpost planet Deshta," Jace said. John nodded. First the Covenant, now, Zerg, something was wrong. Why all now? Everything didn't make sense.

"How much time do we have," John asked.

"We leave," Jace paused, "tomorrow."

* * *

Laniti stood on the sparring mat inside the main training building of Harrison base. She looked around at her comrades, and the ones of the Spartans opposite of her. She smiled to herself. This wouldn't even be a challenge. The test was a friendly sparring match between the Soltaris and the Spartans, in a hope to test out their new reflexes, strength, and overall capability in battle.

"Ox ready?" Jace asked, noticing Ox stiffen at the mention of his name.

"Ready," Ox replied.

"Laniti ready?" Jace asked his daughter.

"Yes," she replied. Father, she thought, her thought ringing clear in Jace's mind. Jace allowed his lips to tug up at the corners, slightly.

"Fight!" Jace barked. Ox circled to the left, keeping his arms up in fighting position, his hands loose. Laniti laughed inwardly at how weak her opponents position was. Even though he was trained for physical combat, her combat style however, depended on it. Ox suddenly made his move, sprinting in fast. Surprisingly fast for someone of his build, but not enough to through Laniti off. She sidestepped to the left, grabbed Ox's right arm, and using his momentum, flipped him head over heels, to land with a loud thud on the mat.

Ox not to be outdone rolled over back onto his toes pulling Laniti with him. She stumbled and tumbled straight into Ox, who rolled out of the way, readying to strike. Laniti maneuvered around, flipping back up onto her feet. She grinned wickedly at Ox. Ox's face renamed passive. Moving forward again, he made a grab for her shoulder. She blocked the attack with her forearm, pushing it aside, allowing Ox to spin, and strike a resounding crack to Laniti's head. She stumbled, but regained her balance quickly, bringing her leg up in a quick attack at Ox's chest.

Ox took the attack dead on. The blow thudded against his reinforced bones within his chest, but he grabbed Laniti's leg, and flung her bodily to the ground. She twisted mid air, landed on her hands and feet, and sprung on top of Ox, forcing him to the ground, as she used her lag to grab his torso, while flipping him over using her entire body so he landed hard on his face. Ox stood up, and took up sparring position again.

"What does it take to beat you," Laniti sighed, exasperated.

"Come and find out," Ox replied. The two launched at each other. Trading blows. Blocking, parrying, moving, skirmishing, testing each other, checking for strengths and weaknesses, until both knelt, panting.

"Cease," Jace barked.

"Session adjourned," Jace barked. He smiled, they had done well.

"What's your name again?" Laniti asked.

"Ox," Ox replied stiffly. Laniti chuckled.

"Just Ox?" she asked.

"Something wrong with my name?" Ox demanded.

"I'm Laniti. Most people just call me Lani," she said, "before I didn't have a name, but my father opted that I have one, to make me more human. Whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Lani it is," Ox said, he fought to smile but couldn't help it. Jace looked onward at the two of them. He felt pain inside, both of them. But not only pain from them, but also pain from himself, for the Master Chief, who never had the chance for friends like this. Groomed for war, only war, it seemed his people had less tolerance for the basics of humanity.

Laniti waved goodbye to Ox, and walked over to Jace, a tear in her eye. She looked at her father, who even though softened slightly since her birth, still maintained a wall to the world. He had been robbed of his humanity for nearly 40 years, and only just now started to enjoy it.

"Why do these Spartans hurt so much father?" she asked, looking at Jace. His face remained expressionless, having blocked out the emotion.

"Because they have forgotten how to live outside being a soldier. I have only just remembered. I hope only they are reminded of the same, before it is too late for them," Jace answered softly.

* * *

**Terran Battlecruiser: Ragnarok Immortus**

"Captain. Zerg patrols in the area have already been eliminated," First Officer Miefiu reported.

"Damn. We can't keep fighting like this," Captain Reginald Jortia swore. But he had no choice. With the Terran forces defeat, and the remainder of their once mighty fleets dispersed, he had been lucky enough to get the prototype Battlecruiser he now Captained off the colony in one piece.

"How about all active systems. How much is operational again?" he demanded.

"Stasis chambers are powered up. Main ATA laser battery up. ATS laser battery up. Yamato Cannon up. Hornet interceptor bays are online. We have a total of 16 Hornets operational. The rest however, we don't even know how they work," Science Officer Phase reported, scratching his head as he perused the data layout.

"Maybe we should wake up our guests?" Miefiu suggested.

"Perhaps. We might need their knowledge. Where did you guys find them?" Jortia asked.

"On the Protoss home planet. They were about to be overrun, along with the defending forces in the region. We managed to clean the human up, we still don't know who he is, but we've purged him of infection. The Protoss warrior however, I'm not sure. He was in a Dragoon," Phase replied.

"Keep the Protoss warrior on ice. Bring the human back and revive him. I have a few questions I want to ask him," Jortia said.

**2 Hours Later**

"What happened on the surface soldier, and what is your god damned name!" Jortia shouted. The man looked at him, his left eye swollen shut, and blood trickled unchecked down his cheek and forehead.

"Why do you want to know and what happened to the Protoss warrior with me," the man demanded.

"You answer my question first."

"No. You. I have nothing to lose, you however, won't get answers from me if I die, and he'd rather die again than tell you anything," the marine spat.

"He's fine. He's in a stasis cell. That's all we can do to keep him alive," Jortia answered, "now my question."

"I happened to be there when the Zerg overran our outpost. I joined forces with the Protoss, and defended their warp gate until their people could leave. My comrade and I 'died' fighting for that position. How is it that I'm alive," the marine asked.

"You almost did. We were doing a sweep for straggling Terran forces. We came across Zerg attempting to drag both your bodies to their hive. Seems you two were valuable. So we killed the Zerg, and brought you two up," Jortia said.

"Well, 'Captain.' If you want a Thank You from me, don't expect one," the marine said.

"I didn't. Now tell me your name," Jortia said.

"Tell me yours first," the marine said.

"Why does my name matter," Jortia demanded.

"So I know who to tell on for beating me up. So I can call you something besides jackass idiot," the marine answered. Jortia's temper flared, but he kept it in check. This man was a rock. He had taken poundings like no man Jortia had ever met, for this he had his respect, but he was now, just being difficult.

"Reginald Jortia. My crew call me Reg," Jortia answered.

"Fine. I'm Field Marshall. Wait, that's probably not my rank anymore. I'm Jim Raynor," Raynor replied.

"Jim Raynor? The Jim Raynor?" Reg asked.

"Yeah. I am 'the' Jim Raynor."


	8. The Gatekeeper

Chapter 8

The Gatekeeper

Edwards Air Force Base: Launch Pad 2

"Master Chief!" Lieutenant Dan Ost shouted over the deafening roar of ship engines. Edwards served as the primary jump off point for 10 of the entire United States naval and air forces, as well as a refueling point and arms and supply depot for the UNSC's larger ships.

"Lieutenant Ost?" John yelled, to make himself heard. Ost ran over to where the 7 foot armored colossus stood. Ost was awed by how huge and formidable the Spartan looked but hid it. There were more important things at hand.

"Master Chief. Here's your mission briefing. It will uplink you automatically to the UNSC net once you're in the air. You leave in 30 minutes. Your transportation will be the Sleipnir, under the command of Captain Mueller. She's waiting for you sir," Ost shouted.

"Very well Lieutenant," John said, and nodded to the contingent of Spartans and Soltaris available. Jace had several squads by himself, and John's command was nearly tripled with the arrival of new recruits. Ox answered the reply and moved off in the direction Ost was pointing.

"Master Chief, good luck," Dan said, "you are badly needed on Deshta."

"Thank you Lieutenant," John said, but Ost was listening, he was intently blocking out the sound coming into his left ear, while he focused on the message coming through on his COM. John held signaled his command to halt.

"Sir. We got something. I need to speak with you in private," Ost shouted and motioned for the nearby hanger. Walking in the Ost tried to close the doors in an attempt to drown out the noise. A little difficult being as the doors were nearly 100 ft up. John closed them with no effort.

"What is the situation," he asked.

"ODS Lion found something. Something big. It's huge. Really huge. We don't' know what it is," Ost said, as though he couldn't grasp the enormity of whatever the UNSC orbital defense station had found.

"How big could it be," Cortana asked using John's COM.

"According to the diagnostics they ran from ODS Lion. There's a small sun in the middle of the Sahara," Ost answered.

"That's big," John commented.

"How do we find it? The Sahara is a big dessert," Cortana said, frowning.

"Don't worry," Ost answered, "You'll see it. It's big. Good luck chief."

"Why?" John asked, slightly puzzled.

"Because you're going in it."


	9. The Sleeping Giant

**Chapter 9**

**The Sleeping Giants**

"There's going to be one checkpoint from here to the Sahara. We have a mobile airstrip that'll taxi you for about 200 miles while your gliders are serviced and refueled. That's it. We're not sure how you're going to get inside but you know how the UNSC is. They give impossible orders," Ost said.

"I know," John said dryly.

"You are to select any five to follow you. The others will proceed straight to Deshta. Your Switchblades are in Hanger 6. I've call Star Wars to come and get you," Ost explained.

"Star Wars?" John asked, confused at whether it was a person or a machine.

"Long story. He should be here soon. Select your five and a leader for your second team. Captain Mueller leaves in 15 minutes with or without you Chief," Ost said then saluted quickly, "I've other matters to attend to." John nodded, his eyes following the young soldier as he jogged off. John looked at his entire team, Soltari and Spartan alike, the burning pain from the last time he needed to divide his team and the sense of loss still permeated his mind.

"Fred," John began almost hesitantly, "Linda, Will, Jace, Toz, you're with me. Ox, you are team leader. Chose your second. Anton, you Grace, Li, Will, and Joshua will be the second team. You are to locate Admiral Wren and be ready for any orders he gives you."

"Got it Chief," Anton said, nodding slightly. He signaled to the veteran Spartans and walked off towards the Sleipnir. Ox saluted, his armor magnified his motion a hundred fold and had it not been for a quick reflex to stop his hand from crashing into his helmet, he would have bruised it badly. He gazed at his team, 22 Spartans, 21 Soltaris.

"Lani. You are take command of your team. Len I want you to split us up into two groups. Lani do the same. Make sure you've set your COM tags accordingly. Team, let's move out," Ox barked. After everyone left, John stood in the huge hanger, vacancy creeping in as they compared insignificantly to the large room they stood in. "Star Wars" arrived shortly after.

"Master Chief!" he said, a British accent barely noticeable, "my names Jake. People round these parts call me Star Wars but please don't, it offends me. Your Switchblades are fueled and ready. Hop on."

The small transport was suspended above the air by means of a hover platform. It sank lower to the ground as the Spartans climbed on. Jake gave them all an odd look as his platform no larger than a medium sized SUV struggled under the combined weight of five Spartans.

"Look a little heavy there eh?" he said. John didn't reply. Jake simply shrugged, shifted his vehicle into drive, and charged off over the concrete road that led to the hanger containing John and his team's switchblades. After a lengthy and dusty ride across the barren desert base they arrived a pristinely lit hanger, labeled simply, "Blades."

"Well we're here. You mission briefings should be inside your individual glider computers and we'll be downloaded to your memory drives as soon as you interface with your ship," he explained, "you'll see we've made many improvements since the last time you've used them."

"Sounds good," Toz commented, "these seem much better than Banshees."

"Mount up team," John ordered. Walking over to his respectable unit he noticed the changes made to the glider. Beneath the two wing-like constructions were four missiles under each. Attached to the belly and fed into the cannon were two additional ammunition caches, and now there were two Metal Storm cannons instead of one. Its blade like construction had been elongated, and it was much larger.

"They're a lot bigger. But a sacrifice we decided to take for the increased firepower," Jake explained. How big of a sacrifice, John thought to himself. No point in being strong if an enemy could outflank you at every turn.

"I doubt you'll notice it. It just means a little more time to make a sharp turn, or a little more drag while flying low," Jake answered, "but trust me. The firepower is a very worthy trade."

"Are they fueled and armed," John said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes Chief. All ready. The NAV point for the refit station is already been entered into your Switchblade's computers. Good luck Chief," Jack said. John muttered to himself, twice he had been told that in less than an hour. He preferred depending on his training, instinct, and experience and not something as fickle as luck.

"Sir. We'd better leave," Toz urged, "time is of the essence."

"Spartans, let's move out," John barked. John pulled the cover plate up and looked down at the controls, glad they didn't change. Two joysticks with triggers and thrust switches made up the gliders control system. John climbed in, lying down on his stomach on the support cradle, and grabbed hold of the flight sticks, tapping the main thrust control once to close down the cockpit. Immediately the glider cover clamped shut on the frame, enclosing him in a coffin of metal, protecting him on all sides in a case of armor.

Pulling the controls up, the glider immediately lifted off the ground. Jack was right, John didn't notice any change in the glider's maneuverability. It was still extremely light. He signaled to his five-man team and pushed the throttle forward, jetting out of the open hanger and into the sky, Linda, Fred, Jace, Toz, and Will coming up on his left and right sides.

Once clearing the Edward's airspace, John gunned the controls and climbed to the glider's maximum speed. With inertial dampeners built into the system, it accelerated to an impressive 700 kph. With the curved contours of the Switchblade matching the wind currents perfectly, there was little to no drag as the small craft thundered towards the coast of California.

"Sir. The first checkpoint is just over Hawaii. The computer projects the carry-on fuel tanks will be depleted about 8 kilometers over the island. We should drop them there to decrease our weight," Fred said over the COM.

"Understood. We should be over Hawaii in less than two hours," John said, "push you gliders to their limits team. We need to get to the Sahara."

"Got it Chief," Fred answered, as John received four acknowledgement lights. In silence, and grim determination, the small wing of surface gliders made their way to the largest object ever to grace the surface of the earth.

* * *

Ox walked onto the loading ramp of the Sleipnir, the deafening booms of ships taking off and landing while fighters patrolled the air, monitoring the already crowded airspace. The Sleipnir bucked almost uncomfortably, struggling against the restraining reigns of gravity, fighting to be free like dogs leashed to a sled, pulling against the harness.

"Spartans. Move," Ox barked quickly, motioning for them to get aboard the transport. He looked at his entire command, most of them having trained under him, most of them having grown up with him, family. He fought with his conscience, which yelled at him for sending his brothers and sisters into combat, but for the sake of Earth, and the human race, Ox was ready to make that sacrifice.

"Master Sergeant you okay?" Len asked, walking up to his newly opened CO.

"I'll be fine Len. Let's get moving. We're needed on Deshta," Ox nodded. Len smiled under his helmet. The Master Chief had made a good decision to make Ox leader of the Spartan IIIs. He turned to the procession of super soldiers jogging up the loading ramp into the Sleipnir.

"You heard him. Let's move Spartans!" he shouted. Ox lingered a few seconds more for the last Soltari to board the ship, coincidentally, it turned out to be Lani. She had her helmet off, hanging loosely in her hands, her hair flying behind her buffeted by the wind and moving in patterns that made it seem almost alive. She grinned at Ox, winking to him.

"Don't get nervous on me now pretty boy," she smiled then jogged off. Ox stood bemused, not sure how to react but he shrugged it off, there were more important things at hand.

Mueller hated being called captain. It made her feel old, as though she were some creaky 50 year old man with a seafaring hat, a wooden peg leg, and an eye-patch from the stories carried over generations after another. On her ship, she was reputed to throw anyone in the brig for calling her captain. So everyone referred to her by her first name, Soz, her first name being Sophie.

She stood at the captain's platform on the bridge of her christened US Sleipnir, a rare class known as a Runner Frigate. They were fast, and deadly for a frigate despite the fairly small armament. She heard the heavy footsteps that denoted a Spartan approaching her.

"Captain," Ox said, saluting. She winced at being called "Captain," but then again, it was hard to throw the armored giant in the brig.

"Call me Soz," she said, louder than usual as she turned to face him. The armored giant didn't say anything.

"Never mind. I am told you go by the name of Ox," she commented. Now it was her turn to be uncomfortable, noticing the Spartan stiffening and standing straight backed, unmoving.

"Sorry, I'm not aware of your rank," she asked, pausing after an odd silence.

"Master Sergeant," Ox answered.

"Well Master Sergeant. I have already been briefed on our mission. Your quarters and armory room have already been set up. Tyrone will take you there," Soz said, motioning for a marine almost as tall as Ox unaided by armor to guide him to his quarters. The man saluted and walked up to Ox gesturing for him to follow.

"How about that," that man said, his accent was pure Bronx. Ox didn't answer.

"Never thought I'd live long enough to see a full grown Spartan, let alone walk next to one. Well that doesn't matter now does it," the man chuckled silently.

"What doesn't matter anymore," Ox said, speaking up for the first time.

"I think what they did to you guys is just sick and twisted. Taking you from birth and training and molding you into what you are. If it's a worthy sacrifice, perhaps it was justifiable. But nothing ever is, even though your kind save us all," Tyrone said.

"That doesn't matter. We all serve the same people, the same planet, regardless of our origins," Ox pointed out.

"I guess you can say that. Only god knows what you and you're team have been through. However, although you are strong and highly skilled, in the end, this war, this battle, will be won by normal humans," Tyrone finished, "humans with weaknesses, of flesh and blood. Natural. I have nothing against you, don't get me wrong, but at the end of the day you have to look at yourself and ask the question why are you really here."

"Why am I really here," Ox said quietly to himself.

"Here we are Master Sergeant. The rest of your team is already there. Good luck on Deshta," Tyrone said.

"Why you wishing me good luck. You're not staying," Ox asked. Tyrone let out a loud sonorous laugh from deep within his cavernous chest.

"I am," he smiled dryly, "I just don't know if I'll see you again on the surface, to wish you luck then. But I hear Spartans make their own luck. We'll see."

* * *

Kerrigan fumed deeply inside. Duran had left Deshta and was out of her control range even with the odd control amplification Deshta seemed to give her. No matter, she didn't need him anymore. She was almost glad she left, for with his departure, so did the Protoss leave. Why they were here however remained a mystery that constantly eluded her. But she was certain for one fact, that there was something on Deshta besides the mineral composition. Something so old an ancient, it could not have been born on the planet.

She waved this off her mind, as she focused on her minions farthest away. The human base was ripe for siege. However their weaponry worried her. Her minions were far greater in numbers than those of her enemy, but these new humans proved more troublesome than the Terran. Their armaments seemed almost fine tuned to destroying mass amounts of enemies at a single time. That was their weakness however, she smiled, once her burrowing beasts got underneath the base, their defenses would be useless. Soon, all would be hers, once she had eradicated all her foes.

* * *

Within a stone quarry, a giant mass moved. Neither nature, flesh, or machine but a combination of both, it was the gigantic, it's entire outer bulk composed of super strong alloys and a sophisticated shielding system, few had ever been able to survive, let alone penetrate. It stirred quietly; it's eyes and soul sensing something far away, so distant. What could it have been to awaken it from slumber? Then slowly, realizing, recognizing the energy waves it understood.

Its brother had been awakened. So the time for the two had come. Forged from a dying star, the two were the most powerful objects in the galaxy, the only two capable of generating enough energy to finally open the lost city. Atalansin waited, calling them, coaxing them from their sleep to come forth and free it from its prison. The time had come, to open the final city of the lost race known as the, Forerunners.


	10. The First

**Chapter 10**

**The First**

"Well Chief. I must say this is quite a surprise," Samos gushed. He was giant, so large that no words could describe him. Standing at 7 ft tall, he was nearly as wide as he was tall. John looked at the man who resembled a giant pumpkin, but noticed the rank and medals adorning the man's incredible girth. He was an Admiral.

"Admiral," John saluted. The man shook his head, almost rippling like an ocean.

"No need Master Chief. Your reputation precedes you," he said, laughing and slapping his belly with mirth. John stood silent, slightly confused and annoyed at the giant's oddly good humor.

"Are our switchblades being attended to?" John asked simply, ignoring the fat man's jokes. Samos hushed quickly, understanding how tense the situation was. He sighed inwardly. Obviously they never taught this Spartan humor.

"Yes they are. We are refitting the fuel tank pods, and refilling your fuel tanks and power generators themselves. We will be reaching your third checkpoint in three hours," Samos replied. John nodded.

"Dismissed Spartan."

"Yes Admiral," John saluted and turned on his heal. Samos' Weapons officer gave John an odd glance then turned to his captain.

"Interesting one he is," he commented.

"If you'd been through what they have, you would too," Samos answered.

* * *

Slipstream Space: Sleipnir 

The Sleipnir thundered, making its mark in the slipstream space that made intergalactic travel possible. Ox looked out at the expansive nothingness of Slipstream, wondering to himself about his mission, his duty. Lani walked over and sat next to him, her face creased in a frown.

"Do you ever take your armor off?" she asked. Ox turned, removing his helmet.

"I just got it," he said.

"I know, but we aren't even there yet and you're wearing your armor," she said.

"I want to be prepared," Ox replied, eyeing Lani. She was in her military's standard uniform, a tight glossy jumpsuit, black from head, to toe, to her fingertips, which hugged her every curve. It was purely functional, allowing for very little hindrance to her motion and allowed the armor to contour better to her body for comfort.

"Sure," she said, winking at him. She stood up and walked away, her hair floating in the air behind her. Ox didn't know what to make of her attitude. She remained a puzzle, completely unique of all her fellow Soltaris who were devoid of emotion, simple soldiers.

"Master Sergeant report to the bridge," the COM pinged. Ox snapped his helmet back on and made his way to the bridge. He arrived shortly to see Mueller gazing blankly at a tactical hologram chart hovering over the projection pedestal. She was to the right side, hands behind her back, and frowned visibly at the tactical readout.

"I've never seen an enemy send so many of their soldiers into battle against such a small installation," the tactical officer, a stocky man named Carl said.

"Neither have I. Reckless tactics," Mueller said, shaking her head, "Wren has barely been able to hold out. A scout drone was intercepted by a reinforcement team, he's managed to only hold off the first wave."

"First?" Carl asked.

"I've never seen anything like it. From the recon photos taken, they've been able to assemble a force of 10,000 some every six hours. How are they pulling off these numbers," Mueller said. Carl shook his head, and then noticing Ox standing there, he stood rigid at attention.

"Soz," he whispered. Soz nodded, she already knew he was there.

"Captain," Ox saluted, taking a step forward. Soz winced visibly.

"At ease Spartan," she nodded. Then turning she walked towards him.

"You called for me?" Ox asked.

"We need a plan. My forces on this ship are limited at best, and I refuse to sacrifice what little men I have. This ship requires a certain amount of personnel to run," she said bluntly. But Ox already understood what she meant. His team was going in first.

"I understand captain," he replied, he motioned toward the hologram projectors controls, asking permission. Soz nodded.

"You have a plan?" she asked.

"Yes. We insert here. I have read about your ship's capabilities in the computer logs. You carry drop pods onboard. We will take this orbital path that runs around this uncontrolled area just below Admiral Wren's foothold. You will insert teams of eight every five minutes so we aren't dropped in large groups right into possible enemy terrain," Ox outlined, "If it is clear I will send you a signal. If not I will inform you of when we will clear the area. If you receive no transmissions, I suggest you stay in orbit, do not come and get us."

"What? No rescue?" Soz demanded.

"You said so yourself. You need all the men you have onboard to keep this ship running captain. Make sure it stays that way," Ox answered, "I will select my teams, send you the arrangements, and prepare them. It's your choice to send us in."

"My choice," Muller said softly to herself.

"Yes. We will do our jobs rest assured ma'am," Ox answered, "It's what we were trained to do."

* * *

"Admiral! They just keep on coming. Ammo reserves are running low. I don't know how much longer we can hold our current position," a random soldier called over the COM. Wren was about to reply when it went dead. 

"This situation has escalated beyond our capability to control," Soldammee said, looking down from the deck of the Hanzanin. Wren had opted to put his vessel into the air, hovering 6000 feet above the base, acting as the guardian of the sky.

"Pull your ship out Soldammee. I will handle this," Wren said.

"But your excellency," Soldammee stammered.

"That's an order," Wren snapped, his voice cold.

"Yes your honor," Soldammee said and he exited the bridge. Wren looked sadly at the small base. He would hold it as long as he could, then evacuate everyone from it once it was about to be overrun. He turned his head, looking into the sky. Master Chief, he thought, better get here quick.

* * *

"Spartans. Move it out. Lani, you are in charge of your team. Split them up accordingly. My group will be the first to drop followed by Lani's first team. Len, you will drop after and then Lani's last group follows Len's. Blue, Green, Red, White, pick your call signs," Ox ordered. 

"White," Len said.

"Blue," Lani answered.

"Green," Lani's second in command, Tulse said.

"Red it is. Get to your drop pods. Get ready for a hot entry," Ox shouted. He stepped into the steel coffin, harnesses dropped securing him in place. Ox clicked his COM relaying instructions to his team.

"Over pressurize your hydrostatic gel. You're going to need the cushioning," he ordered.

"Getting ready to drop you Master Sergeant. Godspeed," Mueller said softly. Ox didn't reply, his eyes focused on the data readouts scrolling down his HUD. Battle formations, ammunition counters, and vital readings of his squad. Their vitals were a little erratic, to be expected on their first real mission. Ox was about to check his weapons, when a faint hiss, followed by a sudden dropping sensation denoted the pod leaving the Frigate. He plummeted into the atmosphere, his stomach doing somersaults as his drop pod thundered towards the surface.

The seconds ticked by, as the howling scream of air friction tested the ingenuity of alloy specialists. Ox looked at the hull temperature then wished he hadn't, it was high, very high. All the wile the metal pod blocked all vision, all senses, inducing a sense of total blindness. With a quick jolt the pod activated it's retro rockets for a short period, reducing its falling speed by half, then with a bone-shaking crunch the pod struck the ground. The hydraulics whined and the pod opened, leaving Ox standing in a barren desert landscape. He could see his fellow teammates arriving afterward. He breathed a sigh of relief, they all made it.

"Head count," Ox asked, pinging the COM.

"All accounted for sir," Len answered.

"You know our orders. Move to it," Ox barked, "make sure we don't come to close. Eyes and ears alert."

"Got it Sarge," Len replied. Ox nodded to his team tacitly, signaling with his fingers to get them to a quick jog. No words were needed, as the Spartans made their way to the doomed base.

* * *

"Admiral this way quickly," a marine said hurriedly, ushering Wren towards a Pelican. Alpha base was going to fall. Wren was moved along quickly to the hanger where a Pelican with his entire command crew awaited to leave the ship. His First Officer had created a suicide plan to buy time for the garrison to evacuate. That plan was to run the ship straight into the enemy then detonate all of it's nukes once the soldiers had evacuated alpha base. 

"Sir. Please hurry. We need to leave the Hanzanin immediately," Sam, as everyone onboard called her whispered urgently.

"Be sure my soldiers make it out alive," Wren said, "I do not leave without them."

"They are properly evacuated except a few individuals who have chosen to make their last stand. Dragoon has also been taken out for hard transfer and has left a copy of himself to man the remaining base defenses," Sam answered.

Wren climbed aboard the Pelican, while an escort of the new Rapier fighters took off. What the Rapiers lacked in firepower as compared to their cousins the Broadsword, they made up in sheer maneuverability. Shaped much like a Broadsword's triangular frame they however were slimmer and sleeker, with their primary weapon of choice being a small MAC gun mounted on the nose.

As the Pelican took off, the Rapiers right beside her, Wren gazed down, as several Pelican and Reaver transports took off from the base, heading toward the mountains. Swarms of monsters veered from the base and began heavy pursuit of the escaping soldiers. Flights of fighters, or what was left of the aerial combat forces moved off their own targets to protect the fleeing transports. Guns flashed and trails of smoke followed missiles as they slammed into the Zerg's ranks. The COM crackled with the desperate cries the dying pilots and soldiers who had decided upon staying behind.

"Watch the flank! They're coming around on this side!" a marine shouted.

"Damn. Sarge I'm out!"

"Take it son. That's my last clip, make it count."

"There's too many. Metal Storm cannons are completely exhausted. God damn it they just keep coming," a pilot said.

"Stow the belly aching. If they want some more we'll give it to them. Lay it on boys!"

"Lieutenant! They're getting up the East wall. I can't hold them off-," then the soldier's COM went dead. Wren bowed his head, his crinkled face long forgetting how to cry for the soldiers he sent to their deaths. Yet cruel fate dictated that he had to survive. The brave men and women around him needed to sacrifice their lives so he, James Wren, could live because of the superciliousness of his rank.

"It is over then," Sam said, shaking her head as the Pelican powered away.

"No. This battle has just begun," Wren replied.

* * *

"Sarge. We've got inbound," Len warned over the COM. Ox focused on his HUD to see the motion tracker light up. Lights flickered as identification markers adjusted to show them as airborne targets. Ox tapped the interface system on his left gauntlet, and the HUD flickered again, simulation and polygon constructions of the inbound targets hove into view. 

"12 targets. Moving fast," Ox reported, "flyers. Save your ammo."

"Sir?" Len demanded.

"Whatever they are, they have the advantage. We need to equalize the field," Ox answered, "take cover for now, and get to higher ground. Len, take two with you, get as high as you can and keep yourselves concealed. Do not fire until I give the order."

One acknowledgement light winked on the HUD. Ox did a quick scan of the surroundings. He didn't know the terrain, but hopefully the enemy didn't either. Two possible areas for cover, one wasn't large enough. The other was barely sufficient. Ox nodded to the remaining Spartans that hadn't followed Len, and they sprinted to the overhang.

Checking the ammo counter on his new MCB-55 portable cannon, he loaded the first shell into place. The MCB-55 was similar to a magnetic rail gun on an extremely small scale. Using a single heavy element surrounding an iron core, the gun drew power directly from the Spartan's shielding and energy generators. It allowed for limited to use, but when directed correctly and efficiently was a deadly weapon.

"Sarge. I see them," Len reported. An acknowledgment light winked and the left hand corner section of Ox's HUD lit up, visual confirmation. They were hideous, flying bags of flesh. Ox signaled to the rest of his team.

"I'll take the first shot. Len you wait till the pass then hit from behind. Everyone pick your targets," Ox ordered. Lights within the HUD flickered as each individual creature was targeted by his teammates. Switching off the safety to his MCB Ox waited for the right moment to attack.

Leaping out, Ox centered the crosshair on the lead monster. Lining up his shot he pulled the trigger. His MCB shuddered letting loose a heavy shell for the lead monster. The shell struck, and pierced straight through continuing and downing the creature behind the lead. Both flopped and shuddered in midair, but continue they're flight.

"Ox. These things are mindless," a voice crackled over the COM. The ID tag identified it to be Lani.

"What do you mean," Ox asked.

"They are singled minded, and single purposed. They exist to kill and feed. You will need to destroy every single part of them, to kill them. Total annihilation," she answered, "we've encountered many as well. They seem more organized than usual."

"Their organization means nothing. We will destroy them," Ox answered simply. This called for a different strategy. Either way, the playing field needed to be leveled. Len and his team were still on top of the nearby plateau. How to level the playing field, Ox thought. Enemies in the air, where prey to their own advantage. Should they lose the air, they became useless.

"Len. Shoot out their wings on their second pass. We'll draw their attention back around towards you," Ox ordered. Dropping his MCB, Ox grabbed his battle rifle, ignoring the shotgun strapped to his leg, he pulled a fresh clip and jammed it into the gun. The MCB was useless, as it was designed to take out one enemy at a time, primarily armored targets. Signaling to his team, he sprinted out, pushing his body to the limit, hoping the flying creatures would bite.

They did. Howling and screeching, they doubled back, all 12 flying for Ox. Still sprinting, Ox made sure everything on his rifle was in order, and turned, running backwards his rifle stuttered to life, spraying bullets into the ranks of abominations. His other Spartans made their moves, as Ox's gunfire was the sign to move. Len broke cover atop the Plateau and rained lead into the wings of the lead flyer. The creature, no longer able to stay airborne, faltered and plummeted towards the earth. One buy one, the Spartan's shot out their wings with pinpoint accuracy.

"Mop the rest of them. We don't want them to be searched for," Ox ordered. Hera, the team's heavy weapon specialist, moved in with a flame-thrower and proceeded in mopping up the remains of the felled creatures.

"Sarge. What were those," Hera asked, reloading the fuel canister attached to her weapon, and then replacing with her battle rifle.

"I don't know," Ox answered simple, looking at the charred remains. Something didn't seem right. These enemies had no matches on any data he had in his memory. However the original plan was failed. The battle group couldn't be split up with the enemy's presence having penetrated so far in.

"White team. Blue team. Green team, call in," Ox ordered.

"White 1 here," Len said from his plateau.

"Blue 1 here," Lani answered.

"Green 1 here," Tulse here.

"Report any engagements," Ox asked.

"Minimal engagement," Len answered.

"No engagement," Tulse answered.

"We are still engaged. Multiple contacts inbound. We've managed to mop up what's here without casualties. Estimated, 60 additional inbound to our position," Lani answered, she sounded tense.

"Give us a NAV point," Ox said, as Len walked up next to him and the remainder of his Spartans gathered to form a loose circle around Ox. Tapping a switch on his helmet, the holographic projector shimmered to show an estimated map of the region. Tulse was closest.

"Green 1. Head toward White team and reinforce them. Blue 1, continue engagement and pull back to this position," Ox dropped the NAV point, "my Spartans and I will join you."

"What about the base," Lani asked.

"No doubt it has already been overrun for these things to gotten so far south. White 1, we'll be splitting up. You take your group and stay up top, I want eyes on anything that moves. Red team, we're joining up with White and Green team," Ox said, hoping he wasn't too late.

* * *

Kelly slowly came to her senses, and sat upright. She blinked a few times to fix her vision and looked around. Glancing down to her right she say that Dr. Halsey was okay, but still unconscious. Looking up the giant flying rock was still there, suspended mid air. How something so large stayed in flight was a wonder to her, but that was the last thing to worry about. 

"Ugh," Halsey groaned, as she slowly got to her feet.

"Dr. Halsey, be careful," Kelly cautioned, moving closer to try to help the doctor up. Halsey waved her off.

"Kelly I'm fine," she answered. Halsey followed Kelly's gaze to the gargantuan object floating midair. She shook her head, not knowing what to think.

"I wonder how we get on that," Kelly wondered. Somehow she regretted those words, as the moment she finished speaking them, a high pitched whine pierced the air. For Dr. Halsey it was no more than an annoying sound, but for a Spartan's enhanced hearing, it hurt. The ultrasonic pitch threatened to knock Kelly out.

"Kelly what's wrong," Dr. Halsey ask, but she realized already. She stood helpless as Kelly grabbed her helmet, fighting off the pain. Then, the sound vanished, and with a flash of light, the Spartan and the doctor were suddenly no longer in the desert.


	11. Always Something to Kill

Chapter 11

Always Something to Kill

Sergeant Crazy Adams Jordan, was big. Standing 6 ft 5 in, and weighing 275 lbs he used to play football at USC. He pulled the trigger on his CT-A1 heavy assault rifle. The CT-A1 was nicknamed the "Thunderpike" because the rifle report was extremely loud. It was almost literally a heavy chain gun that used 80 mm armor piercing tips with magnetic driver accuracy and speed assist. The heavy shells tore out his gun, screaming for what seemed like endless waves of Zerg.

"Keep the lead on them boys," Jordan yelled maniacally.

"Damn. Sergeant Crazy has gone nuts again," a marine said.

"Stow it Chase. Our job, is to make sure these bastards don't get to us," Jordan said. He put on a smile, as though he enjoyed the senseless slaughter, but he gritted his teeth, they were about to be overrun. Jordan couldn't understand how these creatures could put up these kinds of numbers. Dragoon estimated nearly 30,000 projected to attack this pass.

"Sarge. Word from the Admiral, most of our forces have withdrawn. We are advised to retreat as soon as possible. We aren't going to receive reinforcements," Chase said.

"Sergeant. Pull us back," Lieutenant Laulker ordered.

"You heard the el-tee. Back it out men, I'll cover our retreat," Jordan shouted. Ripping out the spent belt of his CT-A1, he pulled for another one, to find he didn't have any more. Swearing inwardly, he pulled out his side arm, and his MA8B Battle Rifle, and pointed both at the oncoming creatures. Squaring himself for the expected uneven kicks of the two weapons, he pulled the trigger. Bullets erupted from the barrels of his guns.

"Sergeant that's enough! Get onto the transport!" Laulker shouted. Jordan nodded, he would get on that transport but not yet. The acid spitting ones would shoot the Reaver down before it could take off. Click. His pistol was empty. Still moving backwards, he continued firing till his rifle went empty. Then he turned and sprinted to the transport. Glancing over his shoulder he smiled, he wasn't going to make it.

"Lieutenant, take off now. Leave me," Jordan shouted. Reaching down he picked up the remaining CT-A1 off a dead marine. Leaning forward to imbalance his weight, he rolled on his shoulder and onto his feet as to not lose momentum from picking up the veritable giant of a weapon. Then spinning swiftly, he turned and slammed his palm on the loading slide. The first bullet in his chain locked into place.

"You aren't getting me without a fight," he shouted defiantly. Glancing over his shoulder one more time he gritted his teeth. Taking time to free his left hand he braced his body weight against the massive gun and tapped the switch to turn on his COM.

"Why the hell, haven't you left yet Laulker? I said, leave me and get the rest of our team out," Jordan said, swinging the gun left to mow down an over ambitious creature trying to flank him. But he knew, that there was no hope of him surviving. He was outnumbered 80 to 1. The last shell in his gun slammed into one of the small dog like creatures, wiping it out. He laughed. Out of luck again, he thought to himself and dropped the gun. He stood and waited for the end to come.

But there was no sudden shot of pain and death; instead he opened his eyes to the screeching of dying Zerg all around him. Looking to see what was causing the senseless slaughter he was shocked to see nothing, except the sides of Zerg suddenly split open and fall dead to the floor. He stood stock still for four minutes, until there was nothing left of the attack force.

"Who's there," was all Jordan could think of saying. He was about to ask again, when he caught the sound of a low-pitched whine, and suddenly, 21 Soltaris hove into view, their camouflage disabled. His eyes caught the look of one to the side; an unusually large one out the entire group, which he assumed, was the leader. He was even more shocked when a much smaller one walked forward, a female by the contours of her armor.

"You are Sergeant Adams," she said, more of a statement than anything else.

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"Do you know where Admiral Wren is?" she asked, taking of her helmet. Jordan stood a moment, surprised by her looks for she was stunningly beautiful.

"Heading there now ma'am. We have a transport. What unit are you with," he asked.

"Our own. Now let's get moving. There are more on the way," she said, putting her helmet back on. Jordan nodded. Her last words before hiding her face again echoed in his mind. There are more on the way. Jordan sighed, shaking his head. Somehow he'd gotten used to the fact, there was always something to kill.

* * *

"Ox," the COM crackled. By the way she talked he guessed it was Lani.

"Here," Ox answered.

"I've got a transport. I've dropped a NAV point where Wren is. There are three companies nearby who are holding of Zerg. I suggest you rendezvous with one of them to meet up with Wren at the main base," she said.

"Understood," Ox answered. Ox gazed over the horizon, but he didn't need Lani to tell him that there were patrols holding of the enemy. He could see the flashes of light coming from the valleys. Hear the explosions shake the earth. But most of all, hear the hellish screams of enemies that knew neither pain, compassion, fear, nor hatred. They possessed one instinct: destroy.

* * *

The Ragnarok Immortus thundered out of its slipstream jump just above the atmosphere of Deshta. The engines sputtered once and died. The retro-thrusters burned to bring the gigantic ship to a halt over the deceptively peaceful planet of Deshta. With a few puffs of burners, the Ragnarok Immortus came to a final rest. 

"What's wrong," Reg demanded.

"The engines. They just died I don't know why. The engineering team is already on it trying to figure out what's wrong," Phase said.

"Sir, things can be assumed to go wrong. This is only a prototype," Miefiu pointed out.

"Make sure our prisoner is under lock and key. Send out wraith patrols. I want to know what's going on down there," Reg ordered.

"Condor. Get in closer we're breaking out of formation," Colonel Ien said lazily over the COM. He pulled his ship left moving to place himself back in between his two wingmen. His Broadsword glided along the wind currents, the sounds of the air buffeting his fighter was blocked out by the heavy armor. Equipped with anti-capital ship archer missile pods, one clean tactical nuke, and a veritable arsenal of anti-fighter missiles his fighter was the best of the best the UNSC could offer.

"Sir. Unregistered contact. No idea what it is," Airman Simmons said. Ien sat straight up. He knew they weren't running all these patrols for nothing. With the fall of the Alpha base, every single unit had pulled out of the battle, while the Hanzanin created the biggest distraction the planet of Deshta had ever known. She detonated her plasma generators, leaving a smoking crater three miles around.

"Simmons. Robert. Spread out. If you can't get a visual, I'll make a pass. If I don't like what I see, blow that thing out of the sky," Ien said.

"Wait sir. I've received a transmission. Uh. Sir you better take a look at this," Robert said. He pulled up the command screen and transferred the message via the squadron link. Ien almost crashed his fighter.

"What is it Colonel," Simmons asked.

"See for yourself," he answered. Simmons pulled the message up, and hit play, and nearly fell out his chair.

"To unidentified aircraft. State your purpose on this planet. I am Second Lieutenant Ace Mentes. I repeat state your purpose. Are you friend or foe? If you do not acknowledge I will assume you to be hostile and shoot you down," the message played.

"What should we do sir," Robert asked, switching on the hovers and powering down his primary thrusters. Ien and Simmons followed suit, the three Broadswords hanging as though suspended midair.

"Looks like this guy is for real. But no way would he make such a threat if he weren't backed up. Keep your guns hot. Let's see what he wants," Ien said. He patched his COM through to match the transmission's signal.

"Who's there," the COM crackled as the other pilot spoke.

"I am Colonel Ien of the UNSC. We are neutral," Ien answered, whispering, "for now," under his breath. There was a moment of odd silence as Ien waited for the other fighter's pilot to respond.

"Colonel Ien. I recognize you to be friendly but I have a problem," Ace said over the COM.

"A problem?" Ien asked.

"6 mutalisks are zeroed in on me. My cloak drive is shot. Requesting assistance," he said. Ien was amazed at how calm he kept his voice. As though to confirm the friendship, Ace's ship tag appeared on Ien's forward console. Blinking rapidly: a distress signal.

"You heard the man boys. Let's go fry us some bugs," Ien shouted. Pulling his thrust to maximum, he punched his fighter forward. Sure enough, 6 mutalisks as Ace identified where tearing after a small fighter, which was gamely dodging projectile attacks from the flying monstrosities.

"Condor. Break right. Eagle break left. I'll go up the middle. Split the creatures and diverge. We got two each. That should be easy enough," Ien barked. Pulling his fighter into a climb, the three Broadswords screamed out of formation. Clicking off the safeties to his missiles, and guns, Ien brought up a tactical display with the information they had managed to gather so far on the creatures they were fighting.

"Aim for the wings. They're only weak area is on their spines. Besides that, these look like they're tough as hell to kill," Ien said. The first one came into sight of his Broadswords thin slit-like windows. Flapping its wings, the creature accelerated. Ien locked the crosshairs of his nose gun, and eased the trigger. The chain machine gun mounted under his wings sputtered, launching lead slugs. The creature dodged, moving away in an attempt to flank the Broadsword.

"Damn he's fast," Ien swore, taking note of the Mutalisk's buddy trying to come up on top. Turning off his rear engines, he let he fighter glide downward, losing altitude, then shutting them off all together, he pumped the hover jets full power, streaking upward while pulling his fighter into a climb. After reaching a 45-degree angle climb, he jammed his fighter's thrusters to full throttle.

His fighter parted the two flying creatures as they dodged to avoid the sudden climb. Flapping hard they tore after the accelerating Broadsword. Ien smiled, dumb brutes. As they gained on his fighter, inching closer and closer, Ien slowly increased his speed. Just as the first Mutalisk opened its mouth to launch its weapons, Ien killed his thrusters, and jammed his brakes, allowing the two Mutalisk to shoot past him. Losing nearly 1000 ft in altitude in less than a minute, he punched his engines, locked two missiles on each of his targets, and blew them to hell.

"Condor, Eagle, status check," Ien called over the COM.

"Targets eliminated, minimal damage received," Condor answered.

"Targets eliminated, no damage received," Eagle replied.

"Ace you still there?" Ien asked.

"Yes. I believe we have a common objective," he said.

"Besides surviving?" Ien chuckled.

"My flag ship is nearby. As my weapons are depleted I would like to request for an escort back. Perhaps we might be able to refuel your ships as well," he suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. Raptor squadron, form up on the lieutenant. Let's take him home," Ien ordered.

* * *

Ien gazed around the spacious hanger of the Ragnarok Immortus, taking note of everything, the number of fighters docked, number of personnel, exit points, entry points, and everything from the dust on a table to which key card opened which door. He learned you could never trust anything, and knowing the strength of everything you interact with was crucial to the most important aspect of life. Survival. 

"She is only a prototype," Ace commented, "so much of her equipment isn't fully operational yet."

"You tell me this without actually knowing who I am?" Ien asked, amazed at Ace's honesty.

"You saved my life. There is trust enough in that bond is there not?" Ace countered, winking, "besides, you fighters are being fueled by our technicians, I think that's you trusting us."

"True," Ien said, looking at his subordinates. They simply smiled and shrugged.

"This is the main hanger, and the largest compartment of this Battleship. Majority of our arsenal is stored here from aircraft to ground units. Being as this ship is twice the standard size of a normal battleship, we have a crew onboard of nearly 6,000 and a marine squad double that," he explained.

"A magnificent vessel," Ien said, awed. The internal workings of this war ship seemed so foreign in comparison to UNSC vessels. The inside of the ship was less smooth, more open spaces, and from the internal architecture everything was designed for purpose and nothing else.

Continuing their walk through the gigantic hanger, they rode an elevator up to the bridge, which was located not on the outside like traditional UNSC ships, but more inward, protected by the ship's armor. Most captains preferred being able to see what was going on in battle, but from the looks of the bridge they didn't need to. Every square inch was covered in monitors, constantly reeling statistics on the external surrounds. He noticed a few individuals connected directly into computers via cords running from the base of their necks.

"Psi-ops. They are our eyes and ears onboard this ship. They interpret information from the external cameras and feed it directly into the minds of our officers. It's still testing faces but has proven to be very successful," Ace answered.

"Ace. Who are these people," Reg demanded, turning at the sound of his top pilot's voice. They all turned to see the formidable captain of the Terran vessel approach the four pilots.

"These are the ones who rescued me captain," Ace answered.

"What about your three wingmen Ace," Reg asked, a look of concern crossing his face.

"What do you think," Ace said, his eyes gazing at the floor, as he clenched his fists. There was a hushed silence on the bridge, as everyone listened in on the conversation. Ace was rumored to be Reg's favorite pilot, however so where his wingmen, and however much people try to hide it, loss always hurts.

"They died with honor. That is all any of us can ask for," Reg said loudly, "however I would still like to know where these people came from."

"They are a part of the UNSC from Earth. Our reconnaissance drones have seen many of their ships moving about this region of space as of late. However they have been unaware of the Zerg till recently, having focused their efforts on fending off the Covenant," he explained.

"The Covenant? No doubt Protoss were involved," Reg swore, those arrogant bastards.

"No sir. They have never seen nor heard of Protoss," Ace answered. Reg smiled fleetingly.

"Then let's show them. Arms officer!" Reg barked. A sandy blonde man, who looked no older than 20, ran up to the captain.

"Escort our friends and the Lieutenant to the holding cells. Is our quest awake yet?" Reg asked.

"Which one sir."

"Both."

"They are sir."

"Lead the way," Reg said, "I'm sure our friends here will be interested." Taking a series of elevator shafts to the holding cells they arrived at a large room, covered in wires, most connecting to a single cell illuminated by an eerie blue light. Ien stood rigid, walking towards the end of the room.

"What is that," Simmons asked.

"That is a Protoss. Or at least what is left of one. When Protoss die, if they are lucky enough they can be placed in a cryogenic tube that allows them to fight again. They are very similar to religious zealots who serve their gods. This one is named Fenix, very well known throughout their people," Mentes said. Ien noticed that next to Fenix's cell sat a man, his head tilted down, making the appearance he was sleeping.

"You looking at me?" Raynor asked, looking up.

"Who are you," Ien asked, having nothing better to say.

"Doesn't matter anymore," Raynor sighed, "we're at war. Names never matter anymore."

"What is your name," Ien repeated.

"Jim Raynor," he answered, turning and looking at Ien. For once in a long time Raynor looked into the eyes of a man he felt he could trust. A smile flickered fleetingly on his face.

"Is there a reason this man is being held in this cell," Ien demanded, motioning toward Raynor.

"Yes. He is in violation of our laws," was all Reg said.

"What laws? Our homeworld is destroyed Reg. You need every soldier you can get," Raynor demanded, "we are at war. There is always someone or something to kill."

Ien stopped dead in mid-sentence. There is always someone to kill, he thought, he bowed his head. He looked again at Raynor and at the weird alien in his cell. He shook his head, not understanding what had happened between those two men, but Raynor was right. There was always someone or something to kill, and every soldier counted.

"Captain," Ien said, "I would request that you let this man go, if not in your custody then in ours. We saved your pilot, a life for a life."

"This man is a criminal," Reg protested.

"I'll take my chances," Ien said, smiling. Reg was an honorable man, and Ien had saved his top pilot. He sighed, how much more damage could he do anyway. He has no weapons, no armor, and no past to speak of that was of any use or consequence to Reg.

"Fine. Take him," Reg said, throwing up his hands.

"We're taking the Protoss too," Ien added. Reg turned and walked towards the bridge, waving a hand in his direction.

"Whatever. Give me coordinates of your base. I'd like to speak with your commanding officer," Reg called back.

"You'll have to wait for those. I need to ask my commanding officer first. I am not in a position to reveal anything," Ien said.

* * *

Kelly slowly came to her senses. Her eyes opened and quickly focused and adjusted to the dimly lit chamber. There wasn't much light but it was enough to know they were alone in the room. She painfully got to her feet, her head still ringing from the high pitched sound she heard that had nearly knocked her out. For once she realized she had a weakness. Her enhanced hearing, could be if possible dangerous. 

Looking around, she noticed she was the only one in the room. Dr. Halsey was nowhere to be found. Her breath quickened, wondering where Dr. Halsey could be. Not one to panic, she made her way to the edge of her holding cell and leaned her back against it, taking stock of the room she was in. The room was a dome construction, with light filtering from a small opening at the top. Everything else was smooth, emotionless metal.

"Dr. Halsey!" Kelly shouted. Then switching to her COM she tried to call her, but she only returned with static. Reaching down to her holster, she found she still had her sidearm, but her battle rifle was gone. She sat down and sighed. Firepower wouldn't get herself out of this one. It was time to think.


	12. Entering the Gatekeeper

Chapter 12

Entering the Gatekeeper

John's switchblade hummed as they made their way towards the gigantic energy source. He glanced at his HUD, as his team of five made their way closer. Checking his fuel indicator to make sure the fuel pressure was still safe, he slowly accelerated his glider, gaining altitude slightly to make up for the sudden increase of speed.

"Chief. We should be coming up on our target soon. The marines at the base weren't kidding. The energy readings I'm getting from the Switchblade's sensor arrays is too high to quantify," Cortana commented.

"Really," John commented, "How much further?"

"We should be within visual range in say five minutes," Cortana said. John punched his glider's power to maximum, his team following his lead, their speed doubled.

"Now?" he asked.

"Two minutes, and you are very impatient aren't you," Cortana said, muttering something John ignored.

"There it is Chief," Toz said. The machine was huge, larger than any ship he had ever seen including the Dawn of Infinity. How the massive construction managed to stay hovering in the air unmoving was a mystery, but no doubt the ship generated immense amounts of energy. The ship itself was shaped like a giant egg, elongated and tipped on its side. No visible weapons could be seen, however there was an odd humming noise that cut through the air, as though the ship's very presence changed the way the air carried vibrations.

"Any ideas on how to get in Chief?" Linda asked. John looked for a moment, using the Switchblade's external cameras to pan the ship. No entrances that he could see.

"Cortana. How do we get in," John asked.

"No idea. I've tried to maybe broadcast in, but there doesn't seem to be a computer network to tap. Or maybe it's too primitive for me to tap into it," she said, catching herself from saying "advanced."

"Primitive?" Toz commented, "they managed to make a giant egg that floats in the sky and their computer system is too primitive."

"Quiet," John said, shutting off the primary engines and switching it onto vertical thrusters. There was something in the humming that was important. John listened carefully, blocking out the resonance of his glider's hover jets. He wasn't quite sure what he was listening for, but the sound seemed to be telling him something, imposing an instinct of trust. Somehow the vibrations in the air told him to trust in himself. Throwing caution to the winds, he pulled his glider into a steep climb.

"Chief what are you doing!" Cortana demanded. John ignored her, and continued climbing. After gaining a total of 1,000 feet, John looked at the gigantic ship before him. He felt his eyes searching for something, something small, barely noticeable. Surveying the ship John noticed one thing odd about the giant mass floating in the air. The entire surface was blank as slate. There weren't even patterns formed from armored plating.

"Chief. What are you looking for if I dare to ask?" Cortana said.

"A door," he replied. Then he found it. His eyes focused on a single symbol on the blank surface of the hulking vessel. Although the symbol was barely noticeable, it was there surrounded by the only texture on the entire ship: a rectangular box. However part of him questioned his findings, it was totally and completely illogical, yet somehow, subconsciously he was assured that the small box on the blank surface of the ship was a way in, as though every fiber in his body except the most important part was convinced. He felt assured, reason told him otherwise.

"Chief. Don't even think about it," Cortana said. John ignored her, somehow unknowingly trusting that the only marking on the ship was the way in. Suddenly a burst of pain erupted from his ears, nearly knocking him out. High-pitched, and screeching like fingernails scratching across a blackboard, it overwhelmed his enhanced hearing, and within a few minutes, then it stopped, and his mind drifted from reality. He let loose his grip on the controls, and the Switchblade nose-dived straight for the floating ship.

Cortana almost panicked, as the bio-monitors of John's MJOLNIR armor went off like the fourth of July. She frantically tried to revive him, using the built in life-support systems, but he was out cold and she couldn't understand why. Thinking quickly, as without John's control on the Switchblade, the glider began to plummet. Tapping into the projection system the Master Chief's suit, she took direct control of the glider.

"Chief! Chief are you there!" she shouted, but knew it was no use; he was completely unconscious. Using John's visual monitors, which fed information from John's helmet directly into Cortana, she gasped. The Switchblade was spiraling out of control straight for the hovering object. Unable to pull it out of the steep climb, she did her best to level the craft, gritted her teeth, and closed her eyes, hoping the Master Chief's hunch was correct she aimed for the rectangular box.

* * *

The group of Spartans and Soltaris watched in total shock as their commanding officer's Switchblade plummeted towards the alien object, completely out of control. Toz watched helplessly, his hands tightening around the controls of his craft, as he looked onward, knowing full well what would happen when the tiny glider smashed into the giant object. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the deafening silence that would reverberate through his mind as his commanding officer's consciousness was snuffed out. But none came. He opened his eyes to see the tail end of the Master Chief's Switchblade disappear cleanly into the alien vessel.

"Toz, if you have any explanation at all as to what just happened I'd like to hear it," Fred said.

"You've got me sir," Toz replied, trying to strengthen his link to the Master Chief's mind. He panicked for a moment, unable to increase the focus of the link and assuming the worse, when he connected faintly. He sighed in relief, it wasn't strong, but it was there.

"I think he's 'inside' the ship," Toz said.

"Inside as in. 'Inside' the ship?" Jace asked, he had felt something but wasn't sure what it meant. The moment John's ship had disappeared, the signal Jace received from his link drop dramatically.

"Yes. It seems that box is a door inside. How I don't know, but if the Master Chief got through, I'm sure it will be no different for us," Toz answered.

"It's as good a plan as any," Fred added, adjusting his glider so he would have straight shot into the alien ship. One by one, the five remaining Switchblades maneuvered so they would have exact alignment with the alien ship. Then with 25-second intervals, each glider thundered towards the opening, but nothing would prepare them for what was inside.

John stood up, his eyes slowly adjusting as he fought off the pain that seemingly exploded from his head. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, trying to get his bearings straight. After a few moments, the Spartan took stock of his surroundings, and for the first time in his life was at a loss for a reaction, let alone words.

* * *

He was suspended in mid-air, yet it felt as though his feet were perfectly planted on firm ground, yet when he looked down there wasn't anything to stand on, except for what appeared to be a floor several hundred yards beneath him. In front of him he could make out what seemed to be another door. But it all made no sense, he was defying gravity, which the very thought of caused his logic centers to go off at the sheer irrationality of his situation.

"I see you noticed too," the cool voice of Cortana brought him back to reality.

"Yes. But I'd rather you give me an explanation and how to get out of this predicament rather than state the obvious," John answered.

"Well excuse me for being thoroughly shocked," Cortana replied huffily. She was silent for a moment before replying.

"Well?" John asked.

"The storage crystal has nothing on a room," she paused, "that violates the laws of physics. There is however reference as to what we're in is exactly. The details are little sketchy and I haven't really had a real opportunity to decipher and analyze all the information on the crystal."

"What's the point," John interrupted.

"Well, we seem to be inside what the crystal calls the Gatekeeper. It was created by the forerunners for sure, however the crystal doesn't tell me how it stays in the air," Cortana answered.

"The crystal 'told' you all this," John commented.

"Of course not, I accessed the storage and memory banks. The crystal isn't just a storage device per say you barbarian. It's like a basic artificial intelligence, a librarian for all the information stored within," she answered.

"What does the Gatekeeper do," John asked, still slightly unsettled from floating in the air. It was similar to being in a warship but worse. This warship had no walls so to speak.

"I'm not quite sure. All I can gather is that it well. Gate keeps," she answered.

"That doesn't really help," John pointed out.

"Well all I can tell for certain is that it is some form of protector designed to guard something valuable that the forerunners created. Most of the details are hazy, and that's the most up to date information the crystal is providing," Cortana said at last.

"So it's similar to 343 guilty spark," John said.

"No, completely different. The monitor was what was required to guide someone in order to activate Halo. This 'thing' that we're in has no need to be guided. So long as it is in existence, whatever it is guarding cannot be unlocked by itself," she answered. John reached for his firearms only to find his Juggernaut rifle, grenades, and extra ammunition missing. All that remained was his sidearm. He also noticed that his Switchblade was nowhere to be seen.

"Cortana care to explain where my weapons and glider went," John asked.


	13. The Library

Chapter 13

The Library

"The Gatekeeper destroys all threats entering it deemed hazardous. Incidentally, your weapons and glider seemed like a reasonable danger," Cortana answered. John felt a sense of anxiety at being weaponless. It violated his training to never allow enemies take your weapon from you. However granted the situation he was in, the divide between friend and foe seemed a little hazy. All he knew was for now he was unarmed trapped in an enormous floating rock and somewhat at a loss for words.

"For once," Cortana chimed.

"I would appreciate you not do that Cortana," John snapped. Cortana made a mental grimace, and then giggled slightly.

"I don't find anything funny about this situation," John said.

"Neither do I," Cortana hushed quickly. John couldn't help but notice Cortana was acting weirder than usual, completely unparallel with Dr. Halsey's terse and secretive personality. John stood still for a moment, upside-down but right side up and quickly quashed his disbelief. Cool reasoning returned to him and he took stock of his surroundings. Taking a quick glance he recognized a door like construction straight ahead of him similar in architectural design from the forerunner structures he had seen on Halo.

John connected with his the nervous system interfaced into his armor and pulled his communications menu. His HUD flickered to display a list of names for his team with a marker next to each name indicating their status. All four status lights were off.

"Where are you going?" Cortana asked.

"Away from here. There's a door, I'm going to find out where it goes," John said, checking his motion sensors to make sure it was clear on the other side. His ingrained sense of restlessness had already begun kicking in. A soldier must always remain moving. A soldier must never allow himself to become a stationary target. Movement meant life.

"Yea that makes total sense," Cortana said sarcastically, "go exploring when you have no idea where it goes." John ignored her and cautiously made his way over to the door. His every instinct screamed. He was moving in the open, no visible cover, into something that he didn't understand at all, but somehow, he felt almost driven to follow. It was as if a force was wrapped around his mind and forced him into trusting an invisible guide. Thankfully, Cortana seemed unaffected. His fail-safe: she could stop him if necessary.

The door slid open with a soundless groan that set against the low hum of the background made John's hair stand on end. He glanced periodically at his motion sensors to make sure everything was all clear and continued, in violation of his every fiber, to move forward.

The ship, as John had decided to classify it, was simply massive. It seemed every door opened only to show another hallway infinitely longer than the previous one and each subsequent corridor was more surgically devoid of any sort of guide, direction, or explanation as to how a giant rock with the mass of a moon exerted no gravitational discrepancy and remained airborne.

"Chief, I'm picking up some energy signatures behind the next door. Motion, and thermal aren't reading anything," Cortana said, her voice filled with the faintest touch of anxiety.

"What is it," he asked.

"I can't tell. I'm going to try switching your sensor subsystems to the Juggernaut spectrum," she said. The Juggernaut additions to John's MJOLNIR armor were far more advanced to UNSC technology. The Juggernaut in effect, was an armored tank, equipped with an entire sensors suite, which allowed for the bulky, highly immobile combat armor to serve the roles ranging from rear guard, anti-air support, sensors station, and forward phalanx formations. Dr. Halsey had opted to sacrifice the Juggernaut Armors near impenetrability and total disregard for agility in return for mobility and the most essential resource for a soldier: information.

A disconcerting silence hung in the air.

"Cortana," John said.

"I'm reading holographic interface energy readings. Containment fields," she stopped a full cycle, "and Slipspace shaping coils."

"Slipspace shaping coils?" John couldn't believe what he was saying either.

"This room, is shielded by Slipspace," Cortana breathed. Slipspace had long been deemed too unstable to shape a consistent connection within atmosphere. Of course the underlying difficulty was the inefficiency of human technology, but even from visual records of Covenant ships exiting the Slipstream in atmosphere proved that translation in anything but pure vacuum proved disastrous. The resulting explosive reactions from displacing matter were the equivalent of detonating several nuclear weapons in close proximity.

What Cortana was reading in the other room, was a nearly perfect Slipspace energy field, compressing everything within it, into a completely unaffected dimension inaccessible from normal space. The ultimate shield Cortana thought to herself. It was "physically" in the adjacent room, and yet physically inexistent.

"This is simply amazing. If I can have about 15 minutes to analyze and record these energy readings," she began.

"We don't have time for that. How do we get inside," John interrupted her musings with his trademark no-nonsense tone. Cortana scoffed at John's distaste for her curiosity.

"Still working on it," she answered. John moved closer to the door. Unlike all the previous doors, this one seemingly did not active and slides open automatically. It stayed shut, the indirect guardian guarding what John could only assume valuable enough to possess a Slipspace shield. He only hoped it was worth it, as the remainder of his team was nowhere to be seen, and the lack of communication multiplied his worry.

"Wait, don't move," she said suddenly, bringing John back to reality.

"What is it," John asked, scanning the surface of the door again. He took one stepped forward and froze as a blinding light illuminated the hallway, and a thunderous voice filled the air with reverberations that penetrated two tons worth of armor.

"**Identify yourself Gatekeeper**," the voice shouted as though to make itself heard above all else.

"Cortana," John said, somewhat at a loss of how to respond.

"Hold on," she said, frantically flying through the databases at her disposal in an attempt to find an answer. The voice however, was not so generous on time.

"**Confirm your reply Gatekeeper**," the voice insisted.

"John take me out," Cortana said.

"What?"

"Take me out, trust me I know what I'm doing," she said again. John reached to the back of his helmet and almost reluctantly pulled the Processing Crystal out of its slot. He held it in his hand in front of the door; not knowing what to do with it and now being unable to communicate with Cortana was now even more uncomfortable.

To John's surprise the crystal slowly lifted from his hand, pulled into flight by some unseen force. With a soft crack of thunder it began to spin, slowly then accelerating faster and faster, thrumming the air as it pulsated light.

"**The key. You have the key Gatekeeper**," the voice rumbled. The door whined and slid open. John looked inside, his eyes adjusting the sudden burst of light. He could see the Slipspace shield as Cortana described. Silvery tendrils threaded through the air waving like grass in the wind, each line of silver intertwined to form a shimmering wall.

"**You seem hesitant Gatekeeper. Do not be afraid, you have the key, as such, the wall will not harm you**," the voice said comfortingly. John however, was hardly reassured. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the barrier of light…


End file.
